Pope Evil.

Ok, so maybe the Pope isn't actually evil in the true sense of the word. However, it has become increasingly clear to me that he is most definitely a sick man. His mind, is not a functioning, normal, logical mind.

Today I read a news story that quite truthfully made my blood boil. Really, I couldn't help looking at the picture of Pope Benedict and wishing I could just smack it. Very unCatholic of me, I know. But I couldn't help it. The Pope has announced that women attempting to be ordained, and those attempting to ordain them, are committing a crime as big as child abuse. Seriously.

http://www.independent.ie/world-news/europe/vatican-says-female-priests-as-sinful-as-child-abuse-2261015.html

This makes me angry on several points, but for my own sanity and for the sake of this keyboard, I shall stick to the two biggest points.

1.Female priest = horror of paedophile priest

EXCUSE ME?! I'm sorry Mr Pope but do you truly believe that a female saying mass, giving the sacraments, offering comfort and guidance to people who believe in the faith is the same as a Priest, or anyone for that matter abusing and traumatising a child, taking their innocence and leaving them scarred for life?! That just isn't true. It is so incredibly untrue. No one in their right mind would think so. (Which serves as further proof of Benedict being entirely out of his). This reads like something straight out of the middle ages when understanding the Bible was limited to the clergy and women had to be 'churched' after giving birth and were even put out of their houses during their periods. Being a woman does not make you a bad person Mr Pope, nor does having a penis make you a good one. That is up to chance. Also, I may not be 100% correct on this, but I'm fairly certain that it does not say anywhere in the Bible that it is a crime punishable by excommunication, for a female to be ordained and give communion. And even if it does say something that could be interpreted as such, everyone, including the Pope would do well to remember that Christ nor even God wrote the Bible. People, human people did. Also, rules such as celibacy in priests and even the pope's infallibility were all made up years and years into the Catholic faith by people wishing to save money or be more powerful etc etc. This whole thing reeks of oppression and really it is just disgusting. I am aware that female priests have long been a no no in the Catholic Faith, I am after all, a Catholic. Well, I was raised Catholic. So if Pope Benedict is too stubborn in these old ridiculous rules (along with not allowing contraception and abortion, but those are both arguments for another day) fair enough, he's old, here's hoping...it would be unchristian of me to say...but even that being the case, to go so fecking far as to say that it's as criminal as child abuse?! Dear Christ in heaven above! Surely someone should have said, 'eh, Benedict, I don't er, think it's quite the same thing...'

2. What is so wrong with a female priest?

The Catholic Faith is seriously dwindling and has been for many years. Faith in general is dwindling, but the Catholic Faith more so than others, and I can see why. While other Faiths such as the Church of England have taken huge steps forwards in order to survive, the Catholic Faith (which in the past, I repeat, has made changes to suit itself - the celibacy thing only became a law in 1139 and the infallibility thing only became strict dogma as late as 1870), refuses point blank to change, at all, despite the whirlwind changes that have occurred in the world in the last hundred years. The emancipation of women to name one such change. In almost every other aspect of our civilisation, huge, massive strides have been taken to ensure equal rights between women and men. It may not always happen, but according to law, women are equally entitled to the same jobs, salaries and legal status as men, and apart from the occasional case, this does happen. Just not in the church. Or at least, not the Catholic church. If you want to be devoutly religious in the Catholic Church, as a woman, you must be content to merely be a nun. Not that there's anything wrong with nuns, they do amazing work, but why can't they say mass? And why must they always be subordinate to a male priest? This is not the only overhaul The Catholic faith needs. If I had my way, (which I never will) Women could be priests, or nuns. Dare I say it, even Pope one day? Just as men can be monks, or priests or Pope. If you really want to go for the celibacy, be a nun or a monk. Priests should be allowed marry, and have children etc. etc. There is nothing wrong with it. The Jews do it, and they've been around longer than Catholics. They heard from God himself. well, the prophets did anyway. The root of what I'm saying is that the Bible (I realise I straying rather close to The Da Vinci Code here, but there is a reason that book struck a nerve, and it wasn't the writing) is a man-made creation which can be interpreted by man in as many ways as there are faiths in the world. Thus far, people tend to interpret it the way that suits their ends best. The church has made many, many changes to it's dogma since it was born, why not now? Pope John Paul II made leaps and bounds towards that. Pope Benedict (personally I'd rather call him Ratzinger, I think it suits him better) seems to be pole vaulting backwards through the centuries.

Having been raised a Catholic, since reaching my late teens I will say that year after year, sometimes week after week, I find more and more reasons to detest the religion that was put on me, and I know hundreds, if not thousands feel the same way. Why should I adhere to rules that are so archaic, do not serve to giving me any feeling of being close to God or whatever spiritual being that exists (if any), do not give me comfort and whose 'agents on earth' do so many deplorable and often evil things? The church, as it is right now, has no place in my life, or the lives of thousands of people. It is simply not relevant.

There was this guy, way back in 1139, an Irish guy as it happens, St Malachy by name, who had this...seizure I suppose, in which he shouted out 112 short Latin phrases, each of which adhere to a list of popes and even some anti-popes. (not sure what an anti-pope is, but fact are facts). Thus far, he has not been wrong. After our 'beloved' Pope Benedict, there is only one name left. It could be that St Malachy was only granted a certain number for whatever reason and there may be many popes after Pope Peter the Roman (the final name on the list), or it could be, as I fear it will be, the end of the Catholic church. According to the prophecy, as is translated, it could also be the end of the world. However, the end of the world or not, if the church continues in it's refusal to change and adapt, I can certainly see it being at the very least the end of the Faith. Can't say I'm overly upset.

Cathy Jane

Cathy Jane is mighty pleased with herself in this update!

http://cathyjanew.livejournal.com/1667.html

Money money money

Last night I attended a show performed by the seemingly great Mike Daisey called 'The Last Cargo Cult' as part of the Midsummer. The monologue which lasted a staggering 2 hours and 10 minutes (with no interval) was at it's root, about the nature of money. Or rather, human nature with regards to money. He raised some very interesting points and despite my bum being rather numb, and my attention drifting ever so slightly once or twice, his somewhat explosive and at times almost violent performance did keep me engaged throughout. You see, he gave us something that is impossible for any human, especially poor ones like myself to resist. He gave us money.

That's right. Cold hard cash. As we walked into the auditorium, we were each given a note. I received €5. My friend Amy who was just ahead of me, got €10, while everyone else I could see around me, appeared to also have €5 notes. Now, being the intelligent world aware person that I am, and feeling a little put out that by sheer chance Amy was richer than me, I figured the monologue I was about to watch would have something to do with the inequality of the rich vs. poor, and how there are so few rich compared to so many poor, etc etc. I wasn't entirely wrong.

About halfway through the monologue (a re-telling of his visit to some obscure islands in the South Pacific that don't really do money, interspersed with other short anecdotes of his life, all revolving around money and lack thereof and wanting more of), he brought our attention to the money on our hands. I must at this point tell you that the smell of the money, as it was handled became stronger throughout, and I can tell you, it's an intoxicating smell. He asked us to consider it. brought our attention to the fact that it was, in its essence, only rag paper. That it only had value because WE placed that value on it. He then revealed that there weren't just fives and tens among us. There were 20s, and 50s and even 100s.

What the fuck?! I had the chance to get a €100 note and I got stuck with a lousy €5? God damn it, just my luck. But of course this is exactly what he intended. How does it feel to only be worth that measly €5? Pretty crap. While those sitting pretty with their €50 and €100 must have been feeling very happy with themselves. I found myself eying Amy's €10 with some envy, although also slightly pleased that she was still far from top dog. And odd feeling.

You see money, which Mike went on to say, is the most important thing in the world. No! I hear you cry, love is the most important thing! or happiness! Family! contentment! Sorry to burst the bubble folks, but Mike has a point. As much as we'd all like to think that something like love, rather than money, makes the world go round, it's simply not true, and very naive.

Everyone in the world will claim to be Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Agnostic or even Atheist. And these, they will hold, is their Faith. Their supreme belief. Wrong again. Everyone in the world is in fact united under one great power - money. Think about it: the one thing that everyone in the world believes, trusts and has faith in, is the idea of money. The note I held in my hand was just rag paper. Worthless. But the colours, the size the images on that paper, I knew, because that is the system, I knew was worth €5. I trusted that. And for better or worse, whether we're rich poor or in between, we all trust that the notes we have in our wallets are worth what we believe them to be worth. We believe in money. We know, whether we like it or not, that we need money to survive, to live, in this world that we live in. It's a sad fact, but it's true. Or is it really that sad? I guess that depends on your opinion.

At the very end of the show Mike stands up, thanks us all for coming and addresses the issue that I know has burning in the minds of every single person in that theatre. I know this, because it was burning in me, sometimes consciously, sometimes subconsciously: do we get to keep the money? I had already figured out (judge me if you will) that it would be so easy , had you been given a €20, how easy it would be to simply hand back a €5, and no one would be any the wiser. €15 profit, right there, with no repercussions. No one had taken any note of who had what note. As I only had €5, this plan was pointless to me, I was hardly going to keep a €5 and hand back a€10. But Mike had another trick up his sleave. The money did not belong the midsummer. It did not belong to the venue. It did not belong to Mike. At least, not yet. The money, was in transaction. It was his fee, his wages, his payment, for doing the show. A glass bowl appeared on the table. It was up to us, it seems, to decide, if he really deserved it. We had a choice: Give back exactly what we had. Give back less. Give back more. Give back nothing at all. Our choice.

What would you have done?

What did I do?

I gave it back. It was after all, only €5, and I had enjoyed the experience. Besides, I'm not sure my good Catholic conscience could endure the guilt if I hadn't. That and I was with a large group of people all of whom were watching one another with smiles that clearly stated: we are all aware that this societies idea of what is right and wrong clearly dictates that we give this money back an we cannot be seen to be doing otherwise.

Truth be told, if I wasn't as poor as I am, and I only had €5, I would have been tempted to give an extra €5. However, I couldn't quite ignore a question niggling at the back of my mind, it's still niggling now: poor as I am, if I had had the €100 or even the €50, what then? Would I have dutifully given it back as I did the lowly €5, or would I have given less, and kept the €50 or €100 for myself? It would be so easy, so very, very tempting. This, I dislike.

Now that it's all over, I would be curious to know, did Mike get back exactly what he gave? Or did he get more, or less? I guess I'll never know, but I wish I did. It's something I suppose would vary from city to city, country to country, depending on the mores, values and customs of that place.

I'm glad I returned the money. But it does disturb me a little that money really does have such an incredible power and hold on our lives. It does not bring happiness, or love or contentment, the more things you have, the more things you want, right? But still, it does dominate and at times dictate almost everything in our lives whether we like it or not. It often brings out the worst in people. The fact that I can't even say for if I would have kept €100 and given back a €50 or God forbid a €5 instead? That's a dark side to myself I hope I never have to encounter.

Whoops

Time does seem to be tripping away from me at the moment. It's all very confusing. Maybe it's the good weather. Or perhaps the fact I don't have much to do with my time. Either way, I meant to post this ages ago for all you numerous fans *cough*. So, somewhat later than billed, a little more of Cathy Jane....

http://cathyjanew.livejournal.com/1062.html

More of Cathy Jane

Things are not going too well for our young friend I fear. She has just made a wee bit of a mistake, one I'm sure many of us have made in our time.....

http://cathyjanew.livejournal.com/

ConcerningCathy Jane

It suddenly occured to me that it might be helpful to post a link to my newest literary adventure as well as a bit of a sample. Let me know what you think, if anything at all...

http://cathyjanew.livejournal.com/

A blog concerning the events of the life of Catherine Jane Watkins.

To whom it may concern my name is Catherine Jane Watkins. I am eighteen years of age and hail from a little known town in the middle of nowhere. I recently watched this film called Julie & Julia in which one of the characters starts writing a blog and becomes famous from it. It ends up being a book which then got turned into a film. So I decided, seeing as how I want to be an actor or a writer or some such, that it would be a good idea to do the same. So here I am. I don't know if anyone will be interested in my life but I figure I may as well give it a go. Who knows, maybe something will happen to throw adventure in my way.

I suppose I should start by giving a few basic particulars:

• My mother, an English teacher, is slightly obssessed with the Brontes, therefore I am named after two of their most famous heroines - Catherine Earnshaw and Jane Eyre. The conclussion I must clearly draw from this is that I am destined to meet and fall in love with either a Heathcliff or a Rochester. Though hopefully without all the extra baggage those two bring along with them. Then again, would they be as thrilling without all that baggage? But I digress...
• My father works for the local newspaper. He is one of their top features writers, though it's only a local paper so he doesn't get paid all that much and is most definitely not what one would call famous. At least not beyond the boundries of this fair town.
• I have one brother, older, whose name, you wont be surprised to find, is Edgar, from Wuthering Heights, Heathcliff would have been a step to far I suppose. I also have two younger sisters: Emily-Anne and Charlotte. Poor Charlotte's middle name is Villette. I used to wonder at Dad letting Mum name all of us, but I figured out, now I'm older and wiser, that he loves her too much. He always lets her have way - I'm not sure it's healthy.
• My brother is studying Law in college, but as I am determined to be a writer or actor, or someone of consequence, I desire to study the Arts, for the betterment of my mind. I think that studying the Arts makes you very worldly wise and it's the kind of thing that will stand to you if you were ever to be on a show like Eggheads or Who Wants to be A Millionaire. And just look at Stephen Fry. I think he must surely be the smartest person in the world.
• For my Leaving Cert, which I shall be sitting in a few weeks, I am taking French, History, Music and Home Economics, (really wish I hadn't picked Home Ec, it's all so very...difficult and stereotypical) along with English, Maths and Irish, obviously. I hate maths with a vengeance though. I just don't get numbers.
• As for my hobbies I enjoy reading, writing, listening to music and watching films. I also love to dance and to run.

I can't think of anything else I can tell you by way of introduction. No, I do not have a boyfriend, nor do I intend having one anytime soon. It would prove too much of a distraction. Are there boys that have caught my eye? But of course, I am a girl after all! But we'll leave that for another day. My best friends are Karen and Edel. We are friends because we share a similar state of mind. And all of us are virgins and have never had a boyfriend for more than a few weeks. I believe we are unique among our age group in that respect. Not that we let that get to us. We were never ones to bow to peer pressure and after all, whose to say what great romance might be around the corner for any of us? My mother and father fell in love at the age of nineteen, and have been inseperable ever since. How do I know that my...Mr Darcy or Edward Ferrars isn't about to enter my life and sweep me off my feet? I would be the envy of everyone. I'd be happy out, with a lovely, charming, intelligent boyfriend, who takes me on drives and buys flowers for my mum, cigars for my dad and treats me like a queen. Yes. That would be most excellent.

Absence of Sorts

It seems I have been somewhat absent of late. Well, actually I had forgotten this blog even existed if truth be told, hence it being well over a year since my last post. Pity really, considering just how much has changed, drastically changed at that, in that time. But that, I fear is another very long story for another very long day. Suffice to say the facts simply put are as follows:

• The relationship I last spoke of, while in turns fantastic, terrible and one of the biggest learning curves I have ever encountered has ended, as all things must eventually.
• I did go on to be possibly the best productions officer Dramat has ever seen. (well, at least in the time I have been there) and more recently the ISDA officer, and am even an ISDA nominated Director. (Most definitely one of the proudest moments of my life.)
• I have been diagnosed as a Coeliac. Yeah.
  
• I completed my MA with a fabulous 2.1. Job well done I reckon.
• I am currently unemployed and still living in Cork.

So what brings me back here? Well as I have said I am currently unemployed, something I apparently do not take too kindly to as I find it incredibly difficult having nothing to do. This has lead to a huge increase in writing on my part. I have been writing by the new time: plays, stories, poems, even books, I have been scribbling away. A while back I was home alone feeling mightily sorry for myself ) as one often does when home alone with very little to distract oneself). Bridget Jone's Diary seemed the most appropriate inappropriate film to watch. As I sat there, feeling both delight and disdain for the blossoming romance evolving in front of me, I hit upon an excellent idea. It is a truth universally known that Bridget Jone's Diary is a contemporary rehashing of Jane Austen's wonderful Pride and Prejudice, and that it started life as a simple newspaper column. The same goes for Sex and the City. (the newspaper column bit, not the Pride and Prejudice bit, that would be taking a rehashing of a classic about one hundred steps too far. Although, if you replace conventional family with urban family, I suppose the base ingredients aren't too far off....but I'm straying from the point). The new newspaper column it would appear, is the blog. There are very few people in the world today who don't at the very least Tweet their existence. Getting noticed in this world of millions of blogs is never going to be easy, but where there's a will....
Which bring me to the second truth most universally acknowledged: In every girl lies one of Austen's heroines. That is to say it is most impossible to find a fan of Austen who does not identify completely with one particular heroine of Austen's. This is evident in 'The Jane Austen Book Club', while not particularly cleverly written, or appealing, the basic message I do agree with. There's a bit of Austen in all of us. It's why she's still kicking around after all. My friend Una, for example, while Emma is her favourite, were she to embody anyone, it would be Elizabeth Bennett. For my own part, while Lizzie may be my favourite and while I will always have a soft spot for Elinor, I do believe I am a modern day Catherine Morland.
I live my life in the stories of others, I really do get carried away by my imagination (much to my detriment, I assure you), I even on occasion see things that really aren't there (by which I mean see things in a way which is often the opposite to the reality) and I most definitely believe I am a heroine on the cusp of a great adventure through which I will find my knight in shining armour. That last one refuses to let up, however sensible I try to be.
So my great idea? A contemporary retelling of Northanger Abbey, told through the fascinating and increasingly popular mode of the web log, or blog as it is known.
Catherine Morland becomes Cathy Watkins, rather than leaving for Bath by way of starting her adventure, she is starting college (it is after all, among other things, a coming of age story), she is Irish, as I am, for it is what I know best, and she like me, lives constantly with her nose in a book, a film or a tv show, is easily swayed through her naivete and honesty by less than honest friends and discovers all the delights one does as one starts college. I can't say that there will be castles and cranky widowers and marriage proposals, but there will be men, drinking, parties and even a little bit of sex.
How many people read and how many people enjoy it remains to be seen, but as I said, where there's a will, there is always a way. There is nothing left for me to do now but, well, start.