About Weight of Words

There are lots of paintings depicting Shakepeare’s Ophelia. There’s a particular piece that’s special to me — one of John Millais. I kind of wish that a woman painted his rendition. But never mind.

I feel one with Sylvia Plath’s words, I feel these speak to me more truthfully than any words from the most sincere people I have met. I feel I am living under a glass bell jar. Years before emo mushroomed from the shallow depths, there I was, part of a breed of kids that felt older and more threatening. And threatened.

It’s hard being happy. It’s easy to feel the weight of words.

Still there are things I love just because. Kids. Rain. Bubbles. Music. Poetry. Ballet. Animals. Clouds. Ponds. Paper boats. Art films. Indie films. Wishing feathers. Ice cream. Cheese. Coloring books. Turtles. Mermaids. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Ghost world. Lighthouses. Stones. Shells. Calvin. Hobbes. Falling/freefall. Elmira. Leon the Professional. Baby Delirium. A handful of friends. Great Expectations. Holden Caulfield. The Bell Jar. Love in the Time of Cholera. Peter Pan. Almost Famous. Boo. Tori Amos. Imogen Heap. Alanis. Skin. Aimee Mann. Lost in translation. Virgin Suicides. Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Poets in their youth begin in gladness/ But thereof comes in the end despondency and madness.-Wordsworth

Madness. Euphemism. And that occasional burst of joy. That drive not to flame out.

Ophelia by John Millais

7 thoughts on “About Weight of Words

  1. Kumiko Mae says:

    I only read this now and you had me at Eternal sunshine…

  2. Kumiko Mae says:

    When I bombarded you with comments last night, would you believe I was doing all that through my phone? Effort! But I insisted. Anyway, now that I’m on my laptop, I just thought of sharing with you a filtered reaction to The Bell Jar. I saw that you love it. You live by it maybe, idk. It’s all over your blog. I’m not surprised. It was a masterpiece. I can still remember what type of wreck I was when I read it. I was reading up into the wee hours of night and my mom entered my room cause she heard sobbing and it was me. I was sobbing like a madman. What she didn’t see was me curling with pillows to help me breathe and an assortment of i need to hold on to this life moves… I was such a wreck. I looked like I was a bad breakup gone haywire. It really left me feeling depressed, the book. Now I feel like owning one (I only borrowed a copy). In a way, it’s the best book for a depressive to read. But boy, was it difficult to swallow.

    I don’t have your command of words, and I dont think I have your strength (or courage to reveal yourself as you seem like you can normally do on this blog). I always try to put up a face, not to fake things, but i feel like pretending that everything’s perfect or great helps me feel closer to believing that everything is so. But it’s nice. Reading you blog makes me feel nice. Maybe it’s not your goal. But it’s something you’ve achieved. And I am grateful.

  3. weight of words says:

    I read somewhere that our inner strength can surprise our very selves. I don’t wish to reveal too much of myself here. I actually use words to practice the craft of writing. It’s helpful for my M.A. studies. That’s why I like metaphor — you can hide beneath layers and have people do the thinking and the reflecting. 🙂 I’m glad someone out there feels nice after reading my entries. It’s a pleasant surprise.

    The Bell Jar is a book I love very much.

  4. […] is a painting of Ophelia done by British artist John Everett Millais that has a special place within me. That painting […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: