#Before30BucketList: Read A Classic Novel About Women, By A Woman

(First, go to this post if you don’t know what my #Before30BucketList is. I’ll also be going back to that original post and noting each goal accomplished if you want to keep up but miss out on some of my posts.)

I got pretty excited about this one. I found it on another list about things for women to do before they turn 30, not just anyone in general. Although I have weird views on what a woman is and all that, I do identify as a woman in most instances and have dealt with society’s views on women for my whole life. Plus, reading is pretty much my life, and for some reason I find that I haven’t read nearly enough “classics” that I should know like the back of my hand by now, so I jumped on this pretty quick.

I kind of chose this book randomly. First, everyone knows about Sylvia Plath. I follow a blog called The Belle Jar. I’m deeply affected by mental illness (though I’ve never been suicidal), and am constantly interested in how women lived during different eras because fuck, man, I couldn’t even imagine.

I was afraid it would be slow-reading, as many older books are to me, but I delved right in and didn’t stop. Between all of other lifely duties, it took me only a few days to finish the book. Some parts were riveting. Some parts were confusing. Mostly it left me with a sense of empathy and pride — because I understand what it’s like to not understand, and because so many of us have persevered to make a different world from the one in which Sylvia Plath lived.

Sylvia Plath The Bell Jar

Do you think she imagined someone like me reading someone like her when she was alive?

(I’m not going to write a book review or summary because that’s not really my style.)

Thankfully, I didn’t get depressed after finishing this novel, as I usually do when I read (or finish reading) books, which is kind of odd considering the material. Maybe it’s because I was more excited to have crossed another item off my list.

I absolutely recommend this book to everyone. Whether or not you take anything away from it is up to the way your brain interprets things, but either way it’s a good story.

Companions: Sylvia Plath

Book: $9

Goal Total: $9

9th Goal Accomplished
List Item #15: Read A Classic Novel About Women, By A Woman
On 4-23-2017

Bucket List Total: $167

Confession: That Time I Tried to Kill Myself

Twice. I tried it twice.

The New Oxford American Dictionary for suicide: the action of killing oneself intentionally.

I was living in Bristol at the time, unemployed and had recently moved into a flat which I shared with a couple. I had the room at the top of the stairs. Mostly, I cried a lot. I would stay up through the night and just listen to the house, its creaks and groans and my breathing. Depression, for me, was an ever-present presence that never let me rest since I was twelve so I didn’t think it was all that serious.

Injuring myself was a usual happening and it only worsened when I became involved in an abusive relationship. A month before I started seriously considering taking my life, I went to the medical centre just down the road. Since I had no family or friends about to nag me to go to the doctor, and as a very conscientious person, I took myself to see the doctor. The doctor was incompetent. It was my first time there, and looking back I probably should’ve started with complaining about the flu I was battling but instead I dived in and said I was depressed and would like help. I’d had anti-depressants before and requested to be prescribed more, hoping to ward off the swelling depression which was steadily consuming me.

He gave me pamphlets with information I already knew about.

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Let Robin Williams Help You Find Your Voice

I wasn’t going to post this. I wasn’t even going to write it. The first half explains that viewpoint. The second half is where it gets good.

779px-Robin_Williams_in_2008When I first heard of Robin Williams’ death I was bummed. That’s the best way I know to describe it. I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t emotional. I thought he was a great actor and, from what I had heard, a pretty amazing person so I was bummed. His movies were a huge part of my childhood and adult life and a death is always a bummer.

However, he, himself, was not a part of my life. I didn’t personally know the man. I didn’t ever have a conversation with him or see his face in person. To me he was a celebrity. A heroic celebrity, but a Hollywood celebrity nonetheless.

So I admit I got mad when I literally couldn’t find more than two posts on my Facebook feed that didn’t mention Robin Williams. I got mad when every single ‘trending’ phrase on twitter included his name, movies, or quotes.

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