Jodie Foster, a former childhood actress herself, sticks up for Kristen Stewart in a piece up on the site today. “If I were a young actor today I would quit before I started,” she writes. “If I had to grow up in this media culture, I don’t think I could survive it emotionally.” Media, we suck sometimes. Let’s cut this girl a break, eh? (via newsweek)
This whole thing makes me wonder: Why is it that we Hester Prynne the hell out of women like Kristen Stewart and not men, like, say, Charlie Sheen? Why is promiscuity good for Sheen’s career and bad for Stewart’s? (Don’t tell me Charlie Sheen is a better actor. 1. Kristen Stewart is an underrated actress, and 2. I’ve seen deceased raccoons bring more energy to a performance than Sheen did on Two and a Half Men.)
And most importantly, when will we realize that our obsession with imagining celebrities (or anyone else) without empathy hurts both the observer and the observed?
What they don’t tell you is that Kristen Stewart IS the dead raccoon whose so called performance bested Charlie Sheen’s.
A hand drawn seal to Bune, a Goetiatic daemon of death and burial. He is also often called upon to bestow riches and honors (a feat at which he excels) and works well with sorcerers who summon him.
Day One - I feel like a lion who is only eating tofu. 41 days to go.
When I started my tumblr account I told myself that I would post every couple of days at the very least.
Not because anyone would read what I posted (Im up to two whole followers!) but because it would be an excellent exercise in developing follow-through.
Apparently I dont have the interest to maintain a constant stream of posts. So I will post when the mood strikes me (meaning not a lot). But I will keep posting.
I am Wizard.
I am a prince of the universe.
I have touched the very essence of life as it flowed through me at my call.
The laws of the universe bend to my will not through force, but understanding.
I am Vampyre.
I walk the line between life and death.
I see Prana, the source of all life, all around me.
I feel the pulse of existence, see the face of the gods.
I am strong. I am capable.
I answer to no one but myself.
Even in the ecstasy of ritual I retain my will.
I have no greater possession than my sense of self.
I am self-serving, but not selfish.
I am proud, but humble.
I am powerful, yet gentle.
I am genius, but wise.
I am my own god, and none shall be worshiped before me.
I am the maker of my own destiny.
There is no greater loss than the loss of self.
And part of the yard. We probably have the largest private domestic lot in town. The photo was taken from the driveway even with the house, and the lot goes beyond the yellow building.
Well here we go. This our new house. Needs some work but it is ours…check out yard in next post
So I just attended my first session of yoga/tai/chi/gong class. I wasn’t really sure about it going in. I mean, come on its yoga. But it actually did help with some joint problems I’ve been having, and it centered my mind quite nicely. And the lady who teaches the class is going to make a ligament repair cream for my knee.
All in all I’m quite excited about the class. And I may get the chance to participate in other classes such as reiki and iridology. And I only had to miss The Simpsons to be able to attend. While that breaks my heart, I suppose I should take solace in the knowledge that I put my health and social skills ahead of an animated tv family.
Totally rocked it as IC at fire practice tonight. Also I was a kick ass victim.
And taxes are stupid and I’m tired. That is all