Now is the winter of our discontent.
Many people might misinterpret this phrase. It actually means: The time of unhappiness is past. It means that the things that have made us sad are sleeping in the cold ground.
Like Shakespeare, I may be misinterpreted, or even not understood. I like to think of myself as fairly straight forward, but that's all in my own head, anyway. The duality to this is that I secretly feel like I am a character in a foreign film, one in which most people do not know the language, and there is an incomprehensible plot. When the film ends, you are left wondering what just happened, and why, maybe you even find yourself feeling slightly existential in the sense that you just fell into a rabbit hole of nonsensical rhymes and non-meanings.
Maybe not.
Either way, I turned 29 at 7:47 this morning and I feel happy that I made it another year.
12 comments:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!! Glad you were born!!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BELOVED!!!!!
did you post that pic before or after i sent it?
cause if you did it BEFORE - that means we are mono y mono!
BON ANNIVERSAIRE, MON COEUR!
After, but that has always been my favourite Mucha painting.
Thanks!
hdid you get my text message?
yeah, but it looks like it's supposed to be a movie.
Thanks Cassie! Everywhere I turn you have sent me another message. It's awesome.
so does that mean you liked the birthday card i sent you?
Amber rawks and hope your birthday was great :)
How was your birthday?
It was fine, for being so old, I guess.
I was way too hung over Saturday morning though.
Now is the winter of our discontent
made glorious summer by this son of York
This quote slightly extended shows the jaded Richard III's loathing for the family he calls his own. Talk about self-destructive! Royalty hating the royal blood that gives him the power he craves. He is supposed to show joy at his brother's ascension to the throne. He begins the statment with a beautifully positive (and independent) phrase and then immediately turns it in the next. What juxtaposition and how misleading!
I could go on for hours about beloved Richard III, but I have children. Hah!
Live and love the paradoxes, the unexpected, and the beautiful language of the horrid Richard III.
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