●●● Cherry Life ●●●

   Dear visitor

Welcome to the renewed Cherry Life

Here you can find some of my writings, which are divided in poems, stories, and also some essay-like writings. Sometimes they are autobiographical, sometimes fictional, and sometimes a little of both. Although this site is called Cherry Life, you may discover that I am not quite a saint, and although I am willing to apologize for our opinions not agreeing, I will not apologize for anything else.

I'd appriciate it if you would leave a comment behind, which can be done in the guestbook. For commenting on my blog entries, you can also do this under each entry

Enjoy your stay.

For now, oyasuminasai

The Dark Queen

Distance leads enchantment, true enough. People like me better when they know nothing about me. However, that is not the reason that Christanity's Holy Virgin is so admired. She brings softness, feminity, and a human touch to the faith. All what she symbolizes, stands opposed to the God, full of vengeance and wrath, in whose name millions died, and her son, whom - according to the church - demands endless sacrifices from all, for whom thousands of women wasted away their lives in convends, bound by one way proclaimed wedding vows. In any regular marriage, the marriage would not exists, as both bride and groom have to say their vows, as well as the marriage has to be consumated. The virgin, on the other hand, demands nothing.

In ancient times, she was the great mother-goddess, and Christianity added her virginity to that. Virgin-mother, God the father, and Christ, the son. A family as the holy threesome. Not father, son and holy spirit as they, the men of the church, say. If we take the words about Christ being born out of a virginal womb and the reason for his dead, than mankind would been nowhere without the virgin, whom gave birth to the person whom died for the sins of all. To the story, the virgin is just as indispossable as the eternal 'traitor', Judas Iskarioth, the 13th apostle. Without any of them, there wouldn't have been any cause for Christianity, and no pope would have had a chance for shameless luxury.

Though, I am not even religous and dread things such as attending church (except for enjoying the architecture) and praying aloud, I enjoy the learnings of saints. Many a thing can be learned from it, and it can be used in many ways. However, there is quite a difference between Catholicism and Protestantism. Though a catholic in my love for beauty and rite, I despise the pompous hunger for luxury and selfenrichment, while there is but a hollow afterimage without anything of the original learnings present. It are just hollow phrases which are spoken. In learning, then, I find myself a protestant.

Let us just say that I am a nonbeliever with a deep interest in and love for such an old and import piece of culture and culture which still is entwined in people?s lives, though they may seem to believe there is not.

Øøø

Now, of course it can be debated how much of Mary's virginity is true, but this is of no importance. Her virginity was merely used to make Christ seem divine and to tie Christianity to the Old Religions It has no meaning as it is the symbol which counts. And she is the symbol of many things.

Virgin, Mother, Pieta.

The story of the Great Goddess once over.

A story on Anne Boleyn, written on the 6th of June 2008, out of boredom. Of course, it is full of mistakes, but since it was just a story out of amusement, I am sure it does not matter. After all, it was for entertainment purposes only.

Anne looks back:

A whore, they call me. Maybe I was. I could�ve been simply a puppet in the hands of my father and uncle, also. But no matter what all said to me, I was Queen of England. A simple harlot could never achieve that. And as a matter of fact, I was never a Madame Du Barry, whom actually was a whore before the king of France raised her in rank, or an Eva P�ron, whom slept her way up. I only gave my honour to my husband, the King, although the first time he touched me, I was yet to be his wife. A whore? So be it.

After all, history has called me many names.

But I was not only called a 'whore', but 'Anne sans tête' too. The first of Henry's wives to be actually killed on his account. Katherine he put away, but me he ordered to be executed. After a trial, of course.

But my lords, what means the story of a commoner? I was Queen. Regina. Standing above all law, above the words of a pipe player. He spoke his words after torture. The master-torturer did his work well. Cromwell got his verdict.

As for George, Viscount Rochford and brother to the Queen, myself, he was condamned on account of what that silly Parker girl told the judges, while trying to save her own neck. Didn't do her much good, though. She lost hers for not speaking up about the affairs which Katherine Howard, my lord's fifth wive and Queen, had in her youth.

As for my father, he was stripped of all the titles which he earned through me, and returned to Hever Castle.

As for my sister...? The other Boleyn girl... My lord's little plaything. One of his little harlots whom sat at his knees and whom were simply overwhelmed by his gifts and attention. None knew how to use the power he had given them. Power, I say, for all men in love are fools. At the mercy of the woman they workship and long for... The price of possessing a woman is more than many a man can handle. She was a plaything, nothing more, and yet she was the official reason that he divorced me; the fact that he had been with her. Now, pray tell me, whom commited adultery?!

I would not give myself to Henry like she did, like she gave herself to the king of France before, like she gave herself to her husbands, as she did before she was with the king, and afterwards. I was not risking to get pregnant and loose his interest in me. My lord may have been king, but he was also man and hunter, and thus he wanted always that which he could not get. Such as me.

I knew his weakness. Though he lusted after me as only he could, and tried to buy me, I kept refusing him. He was my king, but he was not my master in that way. That is the true power of women. Not their body which makes men want them in the first place, but the opportunity to make them do anything to get them. As for me? I made my Lord believe that he was in charge, but for most of our time together, he did as I deemed to be fit. It truly was a shame that the king's former wife, Dowager princess of Wales Katherine, did not do the same...

Poor Katherine, she did not know when to take her way out and it led to her death. Whether she was poissoned, or that she died of a disease, is of no importance to me. She should have taken her leave when she was advised so. She might have been educated by her mother, the Queen of Spain, but she never learned to understand Henry. I did. I knew he was dangerous. But nothing is without danger. Would I have mindlessly given myself to him as my sister did, he would have left me pregnant and I could have died in childbirth. My honour was too valuable for that. We, my father, my uncle and I, we knew that the king could never resist a well-looking woman. That and my honour were my most valuable weapons.

Certainly, it was true, that my family wanted power. Desired power. Wanted it more than everything. But seriously, lords, would I have acted the way I did if I did not seek some fame and power for my own? I did as was expected of me, and got the king's attention. I promised him the son which Katherine could not give him. You may say that I had no choice, but the truth is, I could have easily blown it. After all, Henry was as consistent as any woman could be. His affections were as ever changing as the weather. The honours he gave to those close to his favourite of the moment, could just as easily be withdrawn.

And obviously, that was what he did. He tired of me. As did he with all women whom he loved. He rid himself of them. Except for that silly girl Seymour, whom was a lady-in-waiting of mine. Funny how history repeats itself, isn't it? Anne, lady-in-waiting to Catherine, became Queen. And when the king tired of Anne, he took Jane Seymour into his bed. What Henry wants, Henry gets. Henry wanted a son. And he got one, by his third wife. Which ultimately costed her life as the attempts to, cost me mine.

Henry would never learn from his mistakes, and, as to be expected, the process which started when he rid himself of his first Queen, would continue for a long time. Heads would roll for all his life. A great king has a scaffold surrounded by bodies around him, as we know. In his case, it were the bodies of his wives. Certainly he was a perfect example of Machiavelli's "Principe", the feared ruler.

After his disposing of me, he, Henry, may have gotten his son, his desired Tudor-prince, but it was a Boleyn whom would become England's most famous monarch! It was not the son which he so heartly desired and for whom he killed. As Henry divorced me before he rid himself of me, she was no Tudor, but a Boleyn. Bastard or not, it was his daughter by me, under whom England lived it's Golden Age. She may have had his looks, but it was my ambition which kept her on the throne. My Elizabeth!

And of all Henry's wives, I would be the one to be remembered the most, after the passing of time.

Deal with the demons in my head? Good god, as if that is nothing! There are more demons in my head which you do not know anything about, than that soul crossed the river Styx.

An exaggeration, of course, but still, that is not so easy. Because those demons kind of make me me. Without the things I feared, or the things which occupy my mind, and which are classified as 'strange' in the most positive expression, I wouldn't be me as I am now. They are me.

Some I do not wish to fight, while others inevitably became part of my system. Try to get them out! Most things, once part of one's system can not get out anymore, though one can fight them. Others again... yes, those I'd actually like to get rid of.

They are there for a reason, though.

And then again, if we go into what is said about demons. Lucifer, whom was a demon, according to the bible was an angel first. If  an angel can become a demon, then there must a way to turn demons into angels, too. There must be a way to use them in my advantage. Whether it is easing them, or fighting them, or embracing them. To see them not as a curse is a step in the right direction.

Around me, I hear people moan about loads of things. Parents, people whom they spoke to on the phone, collegues, etc. It seems that everyone gets bugged by silly little things which should not take so much energy and trouble. If one can not accept them, one should just tolerate them. Just act as if you can?t see them and try not to fight them, it won?t help anyway. Tolerating things as little as what bugs us in everyday life can?t be that difficult. I mean, hardly anyone whom I know has issues which are REALLY hard to deal with. If Catherine de? Medici ould deal with having Diane de Poitiers around, the woman whom the king had loved since his fifteenth year ? as Flien-chan?d say, that?s what happens if one arranges marriages. Obviously I gould get up in enormous monologues about this subject, but let?s not go there now. If Catherine could tolerate her husband?s lifelong mistress, then surely you could be a bit more tolerant of the world around you. By doing so, by accepting certain ? unwritten ? rules(for example: it was customary for a king to take mistresses, in ancient days, and a queen could do little other than accepting that), things certainly will be more smooth.You may find out that by accepting their silly, childish rules, people will actually be more inclined to do your bidding.

I am writing ?you?, while this is about me aswell (then again, what isn?t? Egocentrcal being as I am... ^^). I really should pay more atention to this. Beware, if things do not go my way and I loose control over my anger (though it goes better than that I used to, still hottempered, but at least not trying to strangle my brother every once in a while> Then again, it?s a process called ?growing up?). Ginger Snaps is nothing compared to it...

In order to get what you wish, just shut your eyes, grind your teeth and deal with it.

An aquintance of mine, D. Spoke some wise words yesterday. He asked whether I'd be leaving home now, and when I told him that the King and Queen told me I'd first have to pass the first year. He told me: "well, then you'll just have to work hard during the first year, and than you can leave and get some livingspace of your own."

This is definately I have to keep in mind for two reasons. One: Once I get used to something, I tend to fall back into my old rythm of doing everything last minute. Reason two: I'm not really looking forward to living at home for ages. This surely is my chance to get out, because if I work hard, I can prove that there is no need to keep checking on me, as well as setting up a rythm of learning which I can keep up to. After all those years, I still am bad at keeping structure.

Another thing is, this I have chosen myself so I'm sort of obliged to bring it to a good end. And after all, there is a future, and there'll be no one whom'll hire someone who is an addept of a culture of barely C's, if they can get someone whom graduated magna cum laude. And obviously, I should be able to do better than I have done all these years, as the only thing I actually worked for was maths. If I'd stop being calculative, and just work for once, it'll have quite some advantages. Not only what I described above, but also, I'll be able to keep up with aquintance C, brother to aquintance D, whom keeps acting as if he is king of the world and I barely the dirt beneath his feet, by whiles. Also, it'll pay off. I'm not planning on becoming one of the many awful lawyers whom one comes across, every now and then (I could tell you tales which make you burst with laughter). Though I have not displayed it really during the past six years, it's kinda all or nothing in my head. All or nothing, and I refuse to have the 'nothing'. Thus, I'll have to work for the 'all'.

I?ll have a new start anyway. New place. New people. New attitude. New me....?

Never.