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Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Helen Mirren


I think this interview featuring Helen Mirren takes the cake as my favourite television interview of all time. Helen is the beautiful 30-year-old star of the Royal Shakespeare Company, making her first chat show appearance, and she is being questioned by a young, slightly sexist Parkinson who refers to her performances as "sluttish eroticism" and describes her as "in quotes, a serious actress" (to which she replies "In quotes? What do you mean in quotes? How dare you!"). I love Helen's quiet feminism, her defiance, her eloquence and her openness.

A few of my favourite bits...

"What a crummy performance if people are obsessed with the size of your bosom or anything else. I would hope that the performance and the play and the living relationship between all the people on stage and all the people in the audience would overcome such boring questions.

"I hate calling people anything!... it's very dangerous to stick labels...

"I don't like schools... I don't find the school system at all conducive to education... I find all schools repressive... There are a few silly rules like not sitting down on the grass on a hot sunny day when all you want to do is sit down on the grass, and not undoing your top button here, and not rolling up your sleeves, and wearing long grey woolly socks but those are unimportant things. The much greater question of lack of liberty is what happens to people's minds in schools.... I think you go on living with what happened in your early life for the rest of your life.

"Oh, greatly sidetracked. I've wanted to be practically everything I can think of. And I admire people who are more than one thing enormously.

"I'm not a planner. I don't like plans of any sorts. So I believe in a true following of instinct. And that's a difficult thing to describe, because it's not just doing what you want to do, that's not following your instinct, that's a very, sort of, impoverished idea of it. But really following your instinct, in the sense that you keep yourself always open to possibilities. And when the possibilities come, you recognise them, and you go with them. I just hope that other possibilities will occur in my life.

"I find Playboy a pornographic magazine... It's disgusting, because it's pretentious and romanticised. And, I don't know, it's just money. It's just a book of money, and attitude to money. Basically.

"You are what you are, and you are what other people think you are. You can't avoid that.

"And I was really rather good. People said I was good, anyway, and I got that terrific feeling of being good at something, I suppose, and other people recognising it."


I think interviewers often mistake interesting with boring. They think that they are revealing something interesting when they persuade an interviewee to divulge whom they have slept with, which of their colleagues are a nightmare to work with, who they invite to dinner parties. But that is not interesting. It's just gossip, and we can find those sorts of dramas in our own lives, easily. 

What is really interesting, and what I want to see or read when I come across an interview, is connection. I love to witness people revealing something true to their hearts. How they think about life, how they feel about it. I don't care if they name names or spill information about other people they know or list what they eat for breakfast. That's beside the point.

All I want is to see a glimpse into another way of thinking and living, that makes me understand the world a little better.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Confidence


I've always thought that the self-confidence schtick was a bit of a nasty tome. Confidence begets confidence, and unconfidence begets unconfidence; it's like a viscous cycle. Me, I go through phases. Some days I feel on top of the world. Other days I feel like a failure. It's hard to get back on top, and when I do, it's because I've done something great, something I am proud of. But the pride inevitably fades out in a puff of smoke and I'm left behind, faced with the tatty remnants of myself, unassured as ever.

Thankfully I just read this Guardian interview with Haruki Murakami (also known as Haruki Mikuki, as my boyfriend Andy refers to him), shared with me by lovely reader Nina. Haruki's confidence strategy for shy, soulful types is much better than mine.

How, then, did he find the confidence to do what he wanted?

"Confidence; as a teenager? Because I knew what I loved. I loved to read; I loved to listen to music; and I love cats. Those three things. So, even though I was an only kid, I could be happy because I knew what I loved. Those three things haven't changed from my childhood. I know what I love, still, now. That's a confidence. If you don't know what you love, you are lost."

Happiness and confidence are inextricably linked. Confidence is happiness within yourself. And so, as a person who tends to over think, to daydream more than do, to be scared, to hesitate, to want things, desperately, that are out of my reach, to beat myself up for both the reaching and the not reaching far enough, it often feels as though confidence is something that just isn't for me. It's a quality, a birthright bestowed upon a chosen few, that I was just not blessed with.

But Haruki is right. Everybody can have a confidence and, ergo, be happy. Confidence is not reliant upon attractiveness or willpower or cool factor or finding a lover or even trying at all. It's not (as I have always believed it to be) a measure of how sure you are that the people in your life like you. It's just knowing what you love. And doing it. Surrounding yourself with it. Bathing in an ocean of it. And appreciating the little happinesses that pepper your days, week after week, year after year. 

"I like to read books. I like to listen to music. I collect records. And cats. I don't have any cats right now. But if I'm taking a walk and I see a cat, I'm happy."

“Happiness is to have a little string onto which things will attach themselves. For example, going to my dressmaker in Judd Street, or rather thinking of a dress I could get her to make, and imagining it made—that is the string, which as if it dipped loosely into a wave of treasure brings up pearls sticking to it. And my days are likely to be strung with them.”
— Virginia Woolf, Diary, 20 April 1925

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Into my arms


I watched a debate on the ABC recently, arguing over the existence of God. It frustrated me, because the religious debaters seemed to think that athiests, as a whole, are devoid of the ability to create, nurture and believe in things like love, beauty and goodness. When really, religion has nothing to do with any of those things. We all find meaning in different ways. And we should be free to do just that, without judgement or vilification from those who do not share our views.

This song, by Nick Cave, illustrates exactly how I see the world, as somebody who doesn't believe in the existence of God but feels my own way through life, trying to find magic and meaning wherever I possibly can.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

The dam


It stops
and starts
like 
crossing over
to a 
dam, 
from a
running stream,
just
when the wings 
begin
to soar.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

The social network


I quit Facebook for a while. Although I didn't delete my account (I still wanted to be invited to parties!) , I rarely visited, barely participated and hardly updated my page to reflect my current life, thoughts, photos, interests and friends.

For the last few days, I have been staying at my parents' house, while Andy is holidaying in Thailand. And being back in my childhood home has made me aware of just how cut off I have become from my "old" life and the people who were in it. I didn't think it was necessarily a bad thing. Until I pondered the reason why it is, besides living further away and growing apart naturally, with new jobs and friends and identities. 

The truth is that I have wilfully distanced myself. Why? Because I am scared. It's a fear that has always plagued me. I'm scared of other people's perceptions of me, particularly when I can't control them via a connection so tenuous as being old school friends who see each other just a few times a year, out of necessity. Friends who know more about me than I would like to remember.

And so, I have decided to embrace Facebook; for now, at least. Consider it a little experiment. An exercise in conquering my fear and living wholeheartedly. Facebook is, in this digital world of ours, the best way for me to keep in touch and stay connected with people who I once loved, and who shaped the person I am today. If it doesn't make my life better, I'll let it go again. But I just want to make sure. So that my life is defined by love, not fear; even if it as so tentative a variation as writing a birthday message on a near-stranger's "wall" once a year.

"Growing apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I’m glad for that."
— Ally Condie, Matched
 
 
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