I just want to tell you that I think you've copped a really bad rap over the years. Countless teachers have painted you as the archetypal evil woman: cold, scheming, lustful for status but ultimately weak-minded and pathetic. They represent you as the villain of the piece, the pushy wife, the corrupter of moral order. Well, I think that's a load of bollocks.
Lady Mac, while it would be stretching things to call you a hero, I love that you were prepared to bust out of the role of subjugated wife and mother, to damn obedience to hell, and go for it, to grab for that chalice with both hands. You did your best to gee-up your husband to pursue his aims, but he couldn't follow through. Frankly, he was a bit of a dick. He was totally sucked in by the witches' prophetic riddle and happy to let others do his dirty work for him. What a loser. He would have made a lousy king, but you, you would have totally rocked it as queen. It really sucks that so few people end up on Team Lady Mac, but I just had to let you know there's at least one of us out here flying your flag. Sincerely, Your biggest fan.
Song of the Day: Hands Clean, Alanis Morissette (2002)
During April, I’m taking part in the A-Z Blogging Challenge (along with 1700 plus others that you can check out here). And I decided that my theme would be letters of various types—inspired by the letters of the alphabet. So we’re almost halfway through… but so far, typically, only one post has been a topic from the advance plan I made.
Today was meant to be King… but Korea (South) looms just too importantly for me to overlook her…
Oh magical bewildering Korea,
Finding a way to define my relationship with my own country is perplexing and complicated; often my views and words become tangled. Attempting to explain how I feel about you is even more troublesome. Please forgive me if I stumble a little.
Australia runs through my veins. The harshness of our light, the grey that tints our foliage, the impossibly awkward twang of our vowels and the blunt humour we embrace: they combine for me as a rich understanding of identity.Five generations of my family have been born within Australia’s brief white timeline. I know her stories, her history, her art, her people. We are intimates. I can disparage and joke about her as mates do and she is not offended.
Korea, you are something altogether different. You confuse me. You are both a venerated elder and a techno-crazy teen. You are at the same time intensely private and wildly extroverted. You are the Land of the Morning Calm and the dance party that lasts all night.
But Korea, to me you are yet much more. You have entrusted me with two of your children. You allow me the immeasurable privilege of being their mother. As I took them away to grow up as Australians, you watched serenely, even though centuries of ancestors link their souls to yours.
Once, as I sat nervously strapped into an airline seat, my nose buried in the warmth of my baby son’s black hair, I watched the mountains of Seoul rush away beneath us and I made you a promise. I will always cherish you; just as I treasure the gifts you have given me. I do not speak in your tongue. I know little of your story, but I am joined at the heart to your people, so you are forever my other homeland.
Always yours,
Wendy
All photos are mine... the babies above were all awaiting adoption last time we visited.
Song of the Day: something to lighten the mood, a bit of K-pop craziness with the very latest from Girls Generation: Catch Me If You Can (2015)
Question of the Day: What is your relationship with place?
Whilst our media advisers have suggested that we should not risk damage to our on-line profile by publicly responding to your recent deplorable attempt to flame us, we are confident that our overwhelming presence in social media affords us the luxury of a rebuttal without fear of being in any way diminished. And as this communication forms part of a blogging challenge, we have deemed it desirable to do so by dismissing you with a dominance of d-words.
D is for dirty and disgusting: Dogs smell. You cheerfully pass wind in public and, to be utterly frank, entire breeds are guilty of eating poo. And please don’t attempt to deride us for having our dainty noses in the air when your method of greeting each other is nothing short of detestable.
D is for downright dominated: Dogs are willing victims of mind control. You openly demean yourselves for food and allow humans to dress you in stupid clothes. Have you no dignity?
D is for disruptive delinquents: Dogs disturb the peace with their dreadful barking. They also steal from their humans and bury the ill-gotten spoils, demonstrating a despicable lack of respect.
D is for deluded defectives: Dogs mistakenly believe that they offer more valuable friendship and comfort than we do. Totally barking up the wrong tree there you slavering fools… We will explain this to you in four short syllables — Dogs. Cannot. Purr.
D is for deceitful dimwits: Dogs use their tails to deliberately mislead others. Those wagging appendages of which you are so proud are nothing more than defective barometers. Wise up, dudes. Some days truly suck. Get some discernment.
We're going to sign off with one of our greatest social media hits , and whilst it is our devout hope that you enjoy the song of the day… we’ll be waving our paws in the air coz we just don’t care.
And so the D-Dangerous question: Who won the debate?
You guys need to know that you have no reason to stalk around acting all superior and stuff. Instead of sticking your noses up in the air and snickering at how you can make those dogs on two legs keepers of the food all sneezy and watery and stuff with your wafty hairs, you should take a good long look at what it is you think you contribute to the foodbowl world.
Have you ever heard of a seeing–eye cat? A rescue cat? A cat that can smell cancer? Or drugs? How about a tracker cat? Or a police cat? Ever seen a statue of a cat that was a war hero? Nope. With you guys it’s all like Mean Girls versus Inspector Rex.
And what’s with hanging out with nasties like Vito Corleone, Dr Evil and Delores Umbridge?Did you run out of witches? Not enough crazy cat women around?
You guys should get some sense of duty.
And while you're at it, lighten up. Get your noses out of the air and take some time to smell the roasts roses.
Signed
AnomonousAmonyous
Now let's rock out with The Fauves: Dogs are the Best People (1996)
The c-critical question: How will the cats respond?
Please excuse what you must think a very low-tech way of contacting you. I considered transmitting my message directly into your brain, but decided against it upon recollection that whilst you are a bona fide member of the Justice League, you are, essentially, human. It would pain me greatly were I to be responsible for inadvertently blowing up your head. So I have resorted to my trusty typewriter to communicate what is, to me, a very real concern — a concern that involves you — and it is my fervent hope that you will support me in dealing with this disturbing matter.
Are you aware that a movie entitled Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice is in development —indeed, is being promoted before even the plot has been determined? I am, to put it bluntly, outraged and appalled.
I will admit that I harbour some degree of envy that you are able to spend your human life incognito as a desirable millionaire whilst I am condemned to being a clumsy dork. And it is also fair to say that I occasionally covet your ability with women (and your car), but I can claim with absolute sincerity that I bear you no malice, nor do I have any reason to suspect any malevolence on your part.Causing no harm to anyone or anything of good intent is central to our code for living. To suggest that either of us would knowingly harm another champion of truth and right is nothing short of scandalous.
My faith in the world I have so long protected is wearing thin. Must everything, even our reputations, be tarnished for the sake of the almighty dollar? To be frank, I am no longer sure that I wish to defend the planet these offensive violence-mongers occupy. I will not stand by and watch as my name and legacy are besmirched. I intend to put a stop to this outrageous venture and it is my sincere hope that you will stand by my side in doing so.
I await your response most keenly,
Superman
The song:
Gotta be a bit of Biff Bang Pow by The Creation (1966)
The Creation Biff Bang Pow
And the B-burning question:Batman or Superman?
I'm taking part in the A-Z Blogging Challenge during April with a couple of thousand other people you may like to visit.
So this is it... Day 1 of the A–Z blogfest. When I checked this morning, 1643 people had signed up to be part of the challenge, and to be perfectly honest, I feel A for Anxiety would probably be a better place for me to start. Writing twenty-six posts around a theme frightens the be-hooey out of me. Disciplined is not my middle name. But twenty-six letters inspired by the alphabet I promised, and so twenty-six letters there shall be... plus a song each day.... and a question...
Picture me holding my nose, squinching my eyes closed and leaping off a cliff into the brain-freezing waters of uncertainty... Here we go...
My darling Achilles
Word has reached me of your misery and anguish at finding yourself in the eternal afterlife. I accept, Archie-sweets, that you expected to be immortal like your father and me—we all did. My heart aches that my efforts and best intentions to that end failed, but my darling boy, no amount of petulant wailing and chest-beating about feeling wronged will alter your situation. You were, indeed, a man, so I’m afraid manning-up is your only option. Like it or not.
Truly, Achilles, I did everything I could to assure you a permanent pass to Mount Olympus. Night after sleepless night I ardently devoted myself to your baptism by fire. And Zeus only knows how many of your father’s hard-earned obal I lavished on the ambrosial balm I massaged into your adored little body in my attempt to make you impermeable. It was your father who put an end to that avenue to immortality. He panicked. OK, it’s accurate to say that our six babies before you ended up as ash, but you were special. I knew that. It was your affrighted father who doubted your destiny. Not me. Please appreciate how positively heartsick I am that you attribute your having been slain by that well-aimed arrow to the heel to my inadequate mothering. Of course I acknowledge that it was a pretty embarrassing way for you to die, especially after you’d kicked such serious butt at Troy. But Archie dearest, are you aware just how awkward trying to dunk an inverted baby into the River Styx is? Managing to hold you by just the one ankle was quite an accomplishment. You were a feisty tot, and a slippery little sucker, too. Perhaps you should count your lucky stars that’s all I had hold of.
So, my darling son, it would seem that having Goddess Angelina’s Brad depict you, while an actor most famous for playing an albino elf represents your assassin Paris, is possibly your best shot at ageless acclaim. Well, that and the fact that the appellation of a particularly vulnerable and ever-so-mortal tendon guarantees athletes will fear hearing a physician utter your name ad infinitum.
Yours unapologetically in athanasia,
Màna, Thetis
ps Dad says hi. And the song for the day? Well, what else but ABC's Poison Arrow. OK... yes... I know it's about Cupid but cut me some slack here!
Question of the day: When have you been inspired to un-apologise?
The Blogging from A to Z Challengeis 26 non-Sundays in April, blogging through the alphabet with a couple of thousand other crazy people..
As the clicky linky pic thing to the right of this post reveals, I am participating in another month-long blogging event during April. So far, 1150 bloggers have signed up to write for the 26 non-Sundays of April, with each day being represented by a letter of the alphabet.
Now, as regular visitors know, this blog is usually arbitrarybits-and-pieces cobbled deftly together. During April, however, I intend to follow the advice of previous participants and will endeavour fervently to conform to the goddamn hellish idea of writing to a theme. And today is theme reveal day.
Jostling keenly for contention have been literary, mischievous, noble and ordinary possibilities. Quite realistically, sometopics I usually think very worthy of exploring, just didn’t lend themselves to being alphabetised. Or would have bored you guys up a drainpipe. So I zeroed in on the central concept.
Letters.
That’s what I’ll be writing: twenty-six letters of various types, to and from whomever I please. And each letter will be inspired by a letter.
You might find an apology to Adam from Eve, a soldier’s note to Florence Nightingale, a hate letter from Baby Born to Barbie, an audit request of the Tooth Fairy, a love letter from Catherine to Heathcliff, or perhaps God's letter of resignation.
Anything is pozzible.
All good things,
Wendy
ps: For an added degree of difficulty, I’m going to tryalso to add an appropriate song. And where better to start than with Patti Smith asking you to come 'break all the rules' and ‘ride like writers ride’ in April Fool.
