Off-Beat

First of all, welcome to Disquiette. I have to say, it is much harder than one might think trying to pick a name for a blog. It's like naming a band, or a baby. Some say that names aren't important, and that what makes up the person, thing, or blog, is what matters. I suppose I'm hoping that will turn out to be true as this blog progresses. On the subject of names though, you should probably know mine. I'm Casey. Apparently it's an old Irish name, originally meaning brave, or vigilant. Whether I live up to those qualities is a matter of opinion, however I was super premature as a baby, and so my parents liked the idea of naming me something to do with braveness. As far as I know that's all there was to it.

Disquiette has a much more interesting back story; I first saw the word Disquiet when I was researching Giorgio De Chirico, an Italian artist from the late 1800's who did a lot of work with the surrealists, and founded the Metaphysical art movement. I was writing an essay on him as a part of the application process when applying for an art school early this year. A particular artwork of his caught my eye. The piece was called The Disquieting Muses. It's flawlessly beautiful, but strange, and quite unsettling:

When I looked at it, it seemed like there was something brooding, as though something terrible was about to happen. The statues could come alive, they could suddenly start walking, or turn into other things entirely. Goodness knows what might happen. The shadows, the overly harsh lighting and color scheme made it extra unsettling, but without the cliche dense reds and blacks of horror movie covers. More so in a way that a circus is terrifying - full of bright colors and exciting new things, but also clowns, and large animals, and people that seem as though they're from another planet. When I decided to start this blog, I was feeling a similar way. I still am, really. Not in danger, but as if everything is rumbling under the surface, changing bit by bit until suddenly I'll find myself high up on the trapeze and falling into something that could either be the worst or the best change of my life. One of those changes is the very reason I was looking at the painting in the first place - art school. I start early next year. New opportunities, new lifestyle, new friends. I have just four weeks left of regular high school, and as much as I hate the freezing classrooms, pointless work, ridiculous teachers and ugly uniforms, there's a small part of me that doesn't want to let go of all that stuff. When I leave I will most likely never see most of the people I hang out with ever again. I won't have to attend another maths class, or fix up my hair to fit the uniform rules, or listen to my best friend complain about teachers. I don't know if I want that. Not seeing my school friends everyday will force me to decide who my real friends are. It will force them to decide if I'm theirs. And for eight weeks between regular school and art school, I'll be completely free to be myself. That's another thing that has been bothering me recently - with all the changes, it feels like I've been changing a lot more than I expected myself to, and I guess I'm just a little confused about myself, and everything really. A little anxious. You could say disquieted even. And viola, that's where the blog name comes from. The extra t and e at the end make it a little prettier.

I decided to make a playlist full of songs that fit my recent disquieting moods and since this blog seems to have the same vibes, I guess it's the place for it to go. Plus, they're awesome songs! So clearly they should be shared with as many people as possible:

 I'll leave you with a poem that just so happens to also be called The Disquieting Muses. It's written by one of the most wonderful writers of all time, Sylvia Plath. It was never actually published in any of her collections, however there is a recording of her reading it which you can listen to here. Otherwise, enjoy reading it yourself:

Mother, mother, what ill-bred aunt
Or what disfigured and unsightly
Cousin did you so unwisely keep
Unasked to my christening, that she
Sent these ladies in her stead
With heads like darning-eggs to nod
And nod and nod at foot and head
And at the left side of my crib?

Mother, who made to order stories
Of Mixie Blackshort the heroic bear,
Mother, whose witches always, always
Got baked into gingerbread, I wonder
Whether you saw them, whether you said
Words to rid me of those three ladies
Nodding by night around my bed,
Mouthless, eyeless, with stitched bald head.

In the hurricane, when father's twelve
Study windows bellied inLike bubbles about to break, you fed
My brother and me cookies and Ovaltine
And helped the two of us to choir:
'Thor is angry; boom boom boom!
Thor is angry: we don't care!
'But those ladies broke the panes.

When on tiptoe the schoolgirls danced,
Blinking flashlights like firefliesAnd singing the glowworm song,
I couldNot lift a foot in the twinkle-dress
But, heavy-footed, stood aside
In the shadow cast by my dismal-headed
Godmothers, and you cried and cried:
And the shadow stretched, the lights went out.

Mother, you sent me to piano lessons
And praised my arabesques and trills
Although each teacher found my touch
Oddly wooden in spite of scales
And the hours of practicing, my ear
Tone-deaf and yes, unteachable.
I learned, I learned, I learned elsewhere,
From muses unhired by you, dear mother.

I woke one day to see you, mother,
Floating above me in bluest air
On a green balloon bright with a million
Flowers and bluebirds that never were
Never, never, found anywhere.
But the little planet bobbed away
Like a soap-bubble as you called: Come here!
And I faced my traveling companions.

Day now, night now, at head, side, feet,
They stand their vigil in gowns of stone,
Faces blank as the day I was born.
Their shadows long in the setting sun
That never brightens or goes down.
And this is the kingdom you bore me to,
Mother,mother. But no frown of mine
Will betray the company I keep.