THE LOVE SONG OF THAT MEDIOCRE MAN FROM 1910's

(Or Why I Don't Believe Critics Anymore)

Apparently, I'm feeling brave today. Maybe. Not really. But I'm still going to go and disagree with all the established interpretations of all those high-and-mighty literary critics or whatever they were. Seriously. It's almost bizarre how many life-altering symbols people tend to find in pieces of art in which the author did nothing more than talk about a lazy afternoon that wouldn't leave their mind for months, or a death scene from a film (that will make everybody wonder who the hell died in the author's life that he should write such sad poetry), or whatever. I'm not really a fan of all that deeper meaning mumbo jumbo (unless it's about fandoms. Then I'm all for it). I usually don't waste my time with it, either.

WORDS ABOUT LOVE

(Or the Expressions Used for the Never-to-Be-Resolved Mess Called Feelings)

The English language uses "I love you" a lot; between lovers, between family, friends etc. My language (Slovene) doesn't. Instead, we use what would translate as "I like you". "I love you" is reserved for lovers/partners exclusively, and even then it's used more rarely; it carries a lot of weight with it.

I used to think that was good. By all means, let's use different terms, let's draw a clear line.

Well. There are no clear lines, are there? Of course the love one has for their family is different from the love they have for their friends, and even more different from the live they have for their partner. But how different? In what way?

I JUST CAN'T NOT

(Or More Ranting on That Respect the Wife Thing)

A while ago, I commented on that article  about showing respect to wives. Now, somebody commented on my post, and due to too much influence from tumblr, I found myself unable not to respond to it in a post.

Here's the comment:

"It appears to be a question of belief. Otherwise he would deny this opinion in public, Even so, it looks even horrible to me. Reminds me of those dominant women who'd be happy to have a dog instead of a man."

FAIL AGAIN. FAIL BETTER.

(Or How to Not to Fail At All When It Comes to Blogging)

Writing this post feels a lot a little bit like this:

It’s not just time, really, it’s the topic, and not even because I can’t obediently pull a few tricks out of my sleeve for people to use; I’m just trying not to vomit my scepticism all over the page. But enough about that for now. Let me be useful for a moment.

When you’ve clicked your fair share of links and scrolled down countless pages, you notice things and sometimes even manage to put your finger on what it actually is you’ve noticed. So here goes—the ‘do’s and ‘don’t’s of blogging:

IRISH DANCES

(Or We All Know Them, But We Actually Don't)

I mean, we've all seen them, we know how the music sounds... But they all kind of look the same. At least, to me they do. They're not really... They also look pretty easy until you try them. I did it once with a bunch of people at some party, and in the end, I wasn't sure which leg was which... It was a lot of fun, though. Try it sometime.

VICTORIAN WORDS

 (Or the Slang of Today Isn’t Even the Most Ridiculous Thing I’ve Ever Heard)

Register.

I don't like register. I should, though, because it’s the reason I get away with writing the way I do. I mean, let’s face it, I wouldn’t last a month in class if my papers were written like this. Thing is, a while ago (a over-a-hundred-years-while-ago), I wouldn’t last a month anywhere, using English like this. Not that there were blogs in Victorian Era, but I’m pretty sure they had other alternatives.