Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Doomed Prophetess


Cassandra of Troy.

Not many know of this iconic figure. She is often overshadowed by her more beautiful and more popular sister-in-law, Helen. Although, history paints a different picture of the crazed Cassandra that is only remembered for her frantic prophecy of the fall of Troy.


Now it may seem strange to write about an unsuccessful woman on a blog that is supposed to inspire women. But, I do think there is something to be learned of Cassandra. There is more than one side to the coin, and Cassandra's seems to have never been flipped. In Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressidus, Cassandra is portrayed as a lunatic, with wild hair streaming behind her back as she prophesied into the wind, and with Priam, king of Troy sitting at her feet, deaf to her pleas. Why didn't he just listen? She was his daughter after all...


Well, the unfortunate fact of the matter is that she was cursed, cursed by the very god that had desired her: Apollo.


It is not often, especially nowadays that a woman can inspire the lust of an otherworldly being--in fact, if you totally factor out vampires (thank you, Stephanie Meyer and the spawn of Twilight), it never happens nowadays! But, back in the time of Gods and Goddesses, when people worshipped the earth and every facet of life was connected to a face on Mount Olympus, earthly affairs were much more conceivable for deities. Hence, Cassandra and Apollo.


Cassandra of Troy may not have been the prettiest turnip in the garden, but she was definitely worth plucking from the soil--at least that's what I assume Apollo saw from his stellar sofa. And, when he saw her laying, very scantily clad (as demonstrated by several vase decorations from the time period) in his temple, he thought the moment was ripe. Assuming the form of a golden man, he ascended from his mountain domain, promising Cassandra the gift of prophecy if only she would sleep with him.


What do you think, ladies? Sound familiar? It seems that men will promise you the moon...doesn't it? Although, personally, I might have jumped at the snap of prophesy like Cassandra (who doesn't want to know what's on the final before exam time?!).


Anyways, poor Apollo is tricked. When Cassandra backs out of the bargain and refuses her body, he curses her. What good is the gift of prophecy if no one will believe you? And so, Cassandra falls into a pit of despair. Her life becomes more and more horrifying each step of the way. She sees Paris, Helen, and the Trojan Horse, but not a soul believes her raving. She's raped and carried across the sea to be the mistress of the king that ransacked her country. And finally, she is killed by the king's jealous wife.


Sounds pleasant, huh?


The question is, what can we learn from all this misfortune? And believe me, the answer has nothing to do with denying golden-Gods-in-disguise your body...


I think, that Cassandra's most valuable quality is her perseverance. She never backed down. Even when people spat in her face (keep in mind she was a princess), she continued to shout her prophecy. Also, Cassandra acknowledged her mistakes. She knew that it had been wrong of her to back out of a bargain--even if that bargain was essentially wrong to begin with. Cassandra made her life a penance for Apollo, working in his temple until she was hijacked across the pond.


What do you say to this?

Are we this strong? Do we have the potential to be? The fact of the matter is, we are women...and so was Cassandra...

at least we have that much going for us.

And, in my perspective, the time has come to discover the rest.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

"Only good girls keep diaries, bad girls don't have time."

The ultimate bad girl--cavalier, brash, sexy, wild--Tallulah Bankhead was all these things despite her Protestant upbringing and Catholic education. Perhaps, that was the problem. Her squabbling shoulder angels couldn't ever agree long enough to do her any good.

She began her career by entering a photograph contest for Picture Play magazine in 1918, the prize of which was a small role in a movie and seventy-five dollars. As it turns out, Tallulah was so ecstatic in entering the contest that she forgot to provide her name and address. The picture ran in the next month's issue and was captioned "Who is she?". Eventually, things were cleared up by Tallulah's prominent father, William Bankhead, future speaker of the house. Shortly thereafter, Tallulah left her home in Alabama to travel to New York city.

Tallulah was an actress through and through, although she only found minor success on the stage and screen until her break out role in Little Foxes in 1939. Despite the tumult of her career, she managed a glowing social repertoire that included the likes of Greta Garbo, The Marx Brothers, and even Gary Cooper. Known for her charm and her ability to vocalize her boisterous thoughts in immortal quotes; Tallulah left a mark on the society of both Hollywood and London, something the color of Bourbon and just as potent.

"I'm as pure as the driven slush."

"I'll come and make love to you at five o'clock. If I'm late, start without me."

"I can read Shakespeare and the Bible. I can shoot dice. That's what I call a liberal education."

These are just a few of Tallulah's brash witticisms. As you can clearly witness, she had quite the mouth, and apparently she knew how to utilize it.

With her deep, sultry voice, Tallulah wooed men into her bed with the skill of Cleopatra--who she even played on screen in 1937, though the film was a flop. However, when Tallulah looked at her promiscuity in retrospect she claimed that she was not quite the nymphomaniac she appeared to be. She just like the thrill of the game. And a feral predator she was.

Upon seeing a former lover that she hadn't seen in many years, she said, to the shock of many, "I thought I told you to wait in the car." Oh, she was clever. Tallulah knew how to work a man. Once at a party, a young man, brought by one of Tallulah's many friends, boldly announced that he wanted to make love to her that very night. Tallulah's response--"and so you shall, you wonderful, old-fashioned boy."

Although, with regard to her wild and carefree social calender, Tallulah still felt that she hadn't accomplished anything of worth. As a strong anti-communist, and loud liberal, she donated much of her time and money to the anti-communist cause to make up for her more risque endeavours.

Eventually, by the year 1950, Tallulah was a household name, whether for her political activism or her many humorous anecdotes. She had charmed her way into the American hearts and even the housewives that denounced her insane lifestyle to their husbands and daughters secretly admired her fervent youth and boisterous personality. Perhaps they had heard of her more soft-hearted exploit? Since the nineteen forties, Tallulah had adopted foster children from abroad.

After writing her memoirs, Tallulah finally allowed herself to slow down. She appeared in one last film, Die, Die My Darling, and had numerous TV appearances, including one celebrity appearance in Lucille Ball and Desi Arnez's comedy, I Love Lucy.

The end of Tallulah was not quite as glorious as the beginning. But she did leave a two million dollar legacy to her friends and family as well as a legacy to women everywhere. If there is anything I think we can learn from Tallulah, it is this, "only good girls keep diaries, bad girls don't have time."

We should be living our lives to the fullest, only dropping when we are too exhausted to stand. Writing it all down, doesn't matter half as much as living to be remembered. Of course if you leave words people will acknowledge your life. But don't you want them to acknowledge your memories and personality without the assistance of the written word? Don't you want them to exalt you as much in death as they did in life?

This should be our goal, ladies.
From now on, it sure is mine.

Monday, December 28, 2009

Femme

Is it just me, or do women in this day and age still feel undervalued? Why do you think that is? Ever since the age of Sufferance, and even before, women have been underestimating themselves simply because they assumed that men were doing the same thing. Do we, as women, have to wear metaphoric or literal pants in order to become an assertive part of the work force, or even the human race in general? In my opinion, that answer is a resounding NO--perhaps with a zesty expletive thrown in just before.

Now, I am not some hairy-legged, cigar-smoking, mustached Feminist. But, neither am I a domesticated, child-rearing, dish-washing house wife (although I have very high respect for you ladies, I couldn't fill your shoes half as well as you do). I am a full time student. And, as such, I enjoy learning. I'd like my education to expand until it is like the world's largest rubber band ball, something flexible that bounces and bounces until it is ready to explode into thousands of tiny, elastic thoughts, each a beginning for the next largest ball. Therefore, I am choosing to further increase my knowledge, and that of my readers (if I am so blessed to have someone stumble upon this lonely page and stick with my mumbo jumbo long enough to be considered a "reader") by embarking on a journey of womanhood.

I encourage you, readers, to follow me--even if you have that ill-begotten Y chromosome--through this tumultuous landscape of femininity. If I manage to complete this quest, that being to explore the conquests of two new women each week with an even higher goal of one a day for a year, I will have successfully proved that women have no need to feel undervalued. We may not be the dominate gender (no penis envy here, thank you Freud!), but we definitely don't have something to prove. In fact, I think we have something to continue.

Let's grab the torch of our fore-mother's legacy and use it to light our path into a wilderness of faces, learning more about our heroines and ourselves as each day progresses.

HOORAH
and two thumbs up for enthusiasm and late night coffee!