Seventeen and Single*

So I am seventeen and single – is that a problem? I never thought it was but apparently in this day and age it’s a tragedy that a girl, one year over the age of consent, should be single. I know that a few centuries back it was common for young women to be wedded off as soon as possible – their fathers couldn’t wait to get the burden of a daughter off their hands – but nowadays people tend to get married a little later down the line, and yet I’m still getting sorrowful looks for being single.

It has got to the stage where I feel as though I am some sort of social recluse – like a modern day leper – and that people, through their pitiful scrutiny, have diagnosed me as ‘terminally single.’ The situation is apparently so dire that when I told my aunt (a self-inflicted singleton) that I “didn’t have boyfriend” she responded with a melancholy “Oh don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.” While she was saying this, with a voice full of empathy, I was thinking I didn’t think I needed to worry? So I guess I’ll follow in my aunt’s terminally single footsteps and end up miserable and alone . . . hold the phone, I’m only seventeen! I really don’t think that the single-syndrome is fatal at this point.

My friend’s father had a rather different response on discovering that I was single: he asked “Why haven’t you got a boyfriend?” – sorry I didn’t know that they were that easy to acquire, it sounded almost as though there was some shop where I could purchase a boyfriend: “Hi, yes, I’d like one in 6ft 2, dark curly hair, a swimmer’s body with intellectual or musical tendencies…” I swear it’s not that simple. In fact I think the response of the shop girl would be: “Erm…I’m sorry we only have Nice Guy in Fat, Tall in Perverted, and Gorgeous in either Arrogant or Bully.” You see my theory is that suitable teenage boyfriends are a limited edition, and like all products of their kind they’re snapped up pretty quickly.

I think perhaps it would be nice to have a boyfriend but I’m certainly not prepared to take on some horrible specimen of mankind just to fit the teenage-relationship cult; maybe boyfriends are the must have fashion item for this season of life? Well, I survived quite well without Converse All-Stars or Doc Martins so I’m sure it’s hardly essential for me to get caught up in this craze – not that I’d turn down a nice one if he came my way (the same could be said about the shoes). You see, I really don’t think there’s an issue with me being seventeen and single, I mean I’ve hardly been condemned to a life-time of spinsterhood – and even if I do head that way I will do it in ridiculous ‘Bridget Jones-esque’ style.

*This was written several months ago - when I was still seventeen.

Black and White

When I saw this herd of Friesian Cattle grouped together in the shade on a hot day in September, it struck me that they looked less like a collection of individual creatures and more like a mass of black and white, tail swishing, nose licking life.

This image of the cattle made me think of how all black and white animals, in any group of above four, become indistinguishable from one another - a mere mish-mash of black and white, like this adorable photo of sleeping Dalmatian puppies (found at http://rachelsquest.blogspot.com/2011/04/hope-is-medicine-for-despair.html). The wildlife photographer James Warwick obviously feels similarly to me on this matter, describing the zebra photo below as thus: “I was drawn to the abstract patterns this closely grouped herd of zebras produced. The stripes of zebras appear to be a visual bonding device. It is known that evenly spaced, black and white bars simulate visual neurones very strongly and the zebra’s stripes appear to make them super-attractive to one another.”

This concept of the stimulation caused by "evenly spaced, black and white bars" got me thinking about optical illusions and indeed the similarities in the effect of a group of black and white animals (often an evolutionary defence mechanism) and that of black and white optical illusions: as seen below.

 

Notice how the image on the left appears to move whilst you should be able to see little black dots flickering across the image on the right.

There are also optical illusions that'll give us a little less of a head ache, like below - faces or vase?

Or a more complex double image as shown in the drawing by C Allan Gilbert below, named All is Vanity, in which he presents the co-existence of life and death when the meaning of existence is in discussion. This image is extremely sinister and haunting, reminding me of the the 'pride' murder in the David Fincher film Se7en.

Moving on from optical illusions, but still with the concept of black and white, my mind drifted onto my favourite type of stage make-up: that of the Pierrot. A form of traditional European theatre about the sad clown Pierrot, who dressed only in black and white; his face would be painted white which contrasted so dramatically to the black of the painted features that he would have a melancholic but ominous appearance. The idea of the Pierrot naturally leads to that of the politically incorrect character of the Minstrel, whose make-up was the polar opposite to the Pierrot but fashioned just as dramatic, yet morally unsound, effects.

The notion of racial oppression, with the over-riding title of 'Black and White', will inevitably lead to the popular hit Black or White by Michael Jackson, a great yet some what hypocritical song.

As a devoted MJ fan (one who cried at the news of his death) I do not enjoy to criticise him - he was undoubtedly the 'King of Pop', a musician who moulded the face pop, but sadly over moulded his own face in the process. It is saddening to see the transformation he underwent from the beautiful, afro'd youth to the gaunt, plastic shell of his former. However, let not his own unpleasant evolution taint the genius of his music, nor indeed the message of his song Black or White.

And finally, below is a picture I stumbled across whilst browsing through Google - I think it's a really sweet and beautiful image, if a little sentimental, that adds a nice end, for we notoriously appreciate sentimental endings, to this blog entry.