Let Them Eat Cake
A short note on making history - from 1.11.22
Today I turned 30. Socially, it’s a momentous occasion, there’s an internal and external shift which causes one to take stock. Usually it is the ghosts of ‘Should’ve done that by now!’, and ‘Where is my life heading?’, that plague the run up to this particular birthday. For me, unusually, I am contented. Harmonious with the universe, I’ve never felt so self-assured. Perhaps you may think it’s good timing, perhaps I have achieved all that I wanted (definitely not the case, many goals left untouched); in reality it’s the opposite, I am awash with new exciting dreams which I am determined to play out. Turning 30 isn’t the end of the line, no it is the continuation of my beginning.
Something that has always been a constant in my life, and will (I am sure) continue on, is my obsession with human documentation. I think at it’s heart, that is why I love reading. It’s why I love history, it’s why I love writing, it’s why I studied journalism, it’s why I have this blog. It’s a way for humanity to, on a personal level, shout out to the abyss of the future: ‘Hello, I am here, I was here, I will always be here.
I am determined to make my substantial mark in my small corner of the world. I have this yearning to write beautiful, witty, resonating words, and for them be heard. ‘Let them eat cake.’ a young woman once never did say, yet those very words have been ascribed to her forever more. They shaped not only who she was in our collective minds, but inflicted great influence within history, which in turn caused their own catalysts in time. The power of storytelling is so prominent among human history, it affects every fiber of our being - whether for good or bad - we are everything through our stories and almost non-existent without them. Poor Marie Antoinette’s story is as misunderstood as the stories of a single individual from the destitute underclass is most definitely unheard. This intern has become its own story. A constant kaleidoscope of an infinite interloping web of tales, which eventually make up some resemblance of humanity’s true history.
Through photos and drawings, architecture, fashion, movies or cave paintings, food, symbols, songs and books; whether it be lore, myths, propaganda, fables, religion, historical or personal accounts - the stories we tell have transcendent power and I am determined to use my newfound confidence to add my story to the chaos of human history, even if the smallest power it holds is the ability to say: I existed, I was here.