Valborg för exakt ett år sedan: har skrivit tent, sitter i tåget på väg och (you guessed it) sköta får!
Valborg idag: sminkar mig, klär på mig klänning och några armband och går snart på fest!
" But this was not proper music! All the instruments plunged in at once, as if they had been holding a party and somebody had opened a door on them. Where was the tune? It was in there somewhere, but the instruments fought over it, tossed it between them, dropped it and trod on it, did something else, then picked it up again and flung it in the air just when you were least expecting it.
There were trumpets and horns, but they didn't sound solemn in the way they did when they boomed out against a background of silence to remind everyone of the dead. Instead they were noisy and irrepressible as a farmyard - they whinnied and squawked and mooed and didn't care what anyone thought. Sometimes they made harsh, cheeky noises like a blown raspberry, or high, giddy squiggles of sound for the sheer joy of it. "
'Are you listening?'
'Yes,' said Tiffany.
'Good. Now ... if you trust in yourself ...'
'... and believe in your dreams ...'
'... and follow your star ...' Miss Tick went on.
'... you'll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren't so lazy. Goodbye.'
" The stories never said why she was wicked. It was enough to be an old woman, enough to be all alone, enough to look strange because you have no teeth. It was enough to be called a witch. If it came to that, the book never gave you the evidence of anything. It talked about "a handsome prince"... was he really, or was it just because he was a prince that people called him handsome? As for "a girl who was as beautiful as the day was long"... well, which day? In midwinter it hardly ever got light! The stories don't want you to think, they just wanted you to believe what you were told... "
“Yes! I'm me! I am careful and logical and I look up things I don't understand! When I hear people use the wrong words, I get edgy! I am good with cheese. I read books fast! I think! And I always have a piece of string! That's the kind of person I am!”
" That was when, in warm nests of straw shielded from the wind by hurdles and barriers of cut furze, the future happened. She'd helped it happen, working with the shepherds by lantern light, dealing with the difficult births. She'd worked with the pointy hat on her head and had felt the shepherds watching her as, with knife and needle and thread and hands and soothing words, she'd saved ewes from the black doorway and helped new lambs into the light. You had to give them a show. You had to give them a story. And she'd walked back home proudly in the morning and bloody to the elbows, but it had been the blood of life. "
" In this paper, I show how Milan builds the romantic relationship between the heroine and hero through the reading and misreading of bodies in regards to gender, disability, and race. I argue that Milan uses the constraints placed on Emily and Anjan’s bodies by systems of power and privilege to illustrate the ways our society has and continues to allow bodies to speak for individuals rather than trusting their stories. "
"If we have learned anything from Quentin Tarantino movies (have we learned anything from Quentin Tarantino movies?) it’s that power through violence does not automatically subvert patriarchal stereotypes."
" Bella was a strange bird, but in the best possible way. A rich girl from the Upper East Side of Manhattan, she was the most rabid hockey fan I'd ever met, though her snooty parents (and I'd met them) had never seen a game, let alone the inside of a locker room. Nobody knew where Bella came by her enthusiasm for the sport.Her lust for hockey was exceeded only by her lust for the players. There weren't exact figures, but I was pretty sure she'd slept with 75 percent of the team. Present company included. "
När man nästa gång blir uppmärksam på ens mamma har hon övergått till att varmt rekommendera vidare verk ur världslitteraturen som hon gillar att citera ur. Under vulkanen av den store författaren Malcolm Lowry som är en fenomenal bok även om den svenska översättningen är undermålig utom i valda delar som tål att citeras för att de är så bra. I denna bok är det en gammal alkis som sitter under en vulkan i Mehiko och super och tänker filosofiskt om sig själv och världen - sånt som alkisar är experter på. På 100 000 sidor ungefär.
'I think my grandmother was slightly a witch,' she said, with a touch of pride.'Really? How do you know?'
'And she talked to her dogs.''And what kind of things did she say to them?' said Miss Tick.''Oh, things like come by and away to me and that'll do,' said Tiffany. 'They always did what she told them.''But those are just sheepdog commands,' said Miss Tick, dismissively. 'That's not exactly witchcraft.'
'She could cure anything. My father said she could make a shepherd's pie stand up and baa.' Tiffany lowered her voice. 'She could bring lambs back to life...'