Sunday, January 22, 2012
"I find the whole concept of being ‘sexy’ embarrassing and confusing. If I do an interview with photographs people desperately want to change me - dye my hair blonder, pluck my eyebrows, give me a fringe. Then there’s the choice of clothes. I know everyone wants a picture of me in a mini-skirt. But that’s not me. I feel uncomfortable. I’d never go out in a mini-skirt. It...’s nothing to do with protecting the Hermione image. I wouldn’t do that. Personally, I don’t actually think it’s even that sexy. What’s sexy about saying, ‘I’m here with my chest out, and a short skirt, have a look at everything I’ve got?’ My idea of sexy is that less is more. The less you reveal the more people can wonder." - Emma Watson
Monday, January 16, 2012
This is a poem I wrote for a seminary project I had to do. I hope you like it.
The Iron Gates
The Iron Gates once called to me,
They beckoned with a grin.
Their deceiving voices whispered,
They held happiness within.
Although The Gates were rusty and bent,
And looked hazardous to the touch,
The Gates reassured and coaxed and allured,
Always promising much.
And so I blindly listened,
Not knowing wrong from right,
I walked to The Gates thinking,
"I'll just keep them in my sight."
But The Iron Gates were clever,
So as to not cause an alarm,
They said to simply touch the lock
Would not be of any harm.
And so I did, thinking it was fine,
As long as I did not go inside.
Besides, The Gates promised "Happiness",
The Iron Gates had lied.
Before I knew it, the lock was gone,
All that was left was a shove,
And The Iron Gates would open,
Along with all Their vows of love.
"Just to peek inside," They said,
"Would not be so bad.
Besides, if you never do,
You'll forever wish you had."
I pushed it open, just a crack,
To see the truth of what They said,
But all I saw was nothing,
I couldn't see where The Iron Gates led.
"Come inside!" They beckoned,
"And everything is yours.
All you have to do is simply,
Walk through the open doors."
As I took a step inside,
To see what I would find,
I knew this was my final chance,
So I stopped and looked behind.
The path I had left was wreathed in light,
The one I was on was black.
In that moment I understood,
I ran never turning back.
The Iron Gates still call to me.
I pass them everyday.
But their voices now hold no appeal,
So I turn and walk away.