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Elektra & Agamemnon,

In neo-Freudian psychology, the Electra complex, as proposed by Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Carl Jung (26 July 1875 – 6 June 1961) in his Theory of Psychoanalysis,[1][2] is a girl's psychosexual competition with her mother for possession of her father. In the course of her psychosexual development, the complex is the girl's phallic stage; a boy's analogous experience is the Oedipus complex. The Electra complex occurs in the third—phallic stage (ages 3–6)—of five psychosexual development stages: the oral, the anal, the phallic, the latent, and the genital—in which the source of libido pleasure is in a different erogenous zone of the infant's body.[3]

The idea of the Electra complex is not widely used by mental health professionals today. There is little empirical evidence for it, as the theory's predictions do not match scientific observations of child development. It is not listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

(From Wikipedia_

#Elektra Complex #Carl Jung #Neo Freudian

Not oedipus. Not Elektra. It's a Parisian complex and I'm getting my whole family killed.

#mythological inaccuracies?#you're boring #oedipus #oedipal complex #elektra complex #trojan war stuff or something #greek myths #psychology?#i dont even know what the heck am i tagging #paris of troy #helen of troy #also a cassandra complex if you will #because nobody believes my prophesies until it happens and they go surprised pikachu face #YES IM HAVING ISSUES #ITS THE MOON

Daddy (Sylvia Plath)

Elektra and Agamemnon

You do not do, you do not do

Any more, black shoe

In which I have lived like a foot

For thirty years, poor and white,

Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.

You died before I had time——

Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,

Ghastly statue with one gray toe

Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic

Where it pours bean green over blue

In the waters off beautiful Nauset.

I used to pray to recover you.

Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town

Scraped flat by the roller

Of wars, wars, wars.

But the name of the town is common.

My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.

So I never could tell where you

Put your foot, your root,

I never could talk to you.

The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.

Ich, ich, ich, ich,

I could hardly speak.

I thought every German was you.

And the language obscene

An engine, an engine

Chuffing me off like a Jew.

A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.

I began to talk like a Jew.

I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna

Are not very pure or true.

With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck

And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack

I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,

With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.

And your neat mustache

And your Aryan eye, bright blue.

Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You——

Not God but a swastika

So black no sky could squeak through.

Every woman adores a Fascist,

The boot in the face, the brute

Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,

In the picture I have of you,

A cleft in your chin instead of your foot

But no less a devil for that, no not

Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.

I was ten when they buried you.

At twenty I tried to die

And get back, back, back to you.

I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,

And they stuck me together with glue.

And then I knew what to do.

I made a model of you,

A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.

And I said I do, I do.

So daddy, I’m finally through.

The black telephone’s off at the root,

The voices just can’t worm through.

If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two——

The vampire who said he was you

And drank my blood for a year,

Seven years, if you want to know.

Daddy, you can lie back now.

There’s a stake in your fat black heart

And the villagers never liked you.

They are dancing and stamping on you.

They always knew it was you.

Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.

Notes:

First published in Ariel, 1965. Reprinted in The Collected Poems, 1981.

Sylvia Plath, “Daddy” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 1960, 1965, 1971, 1981 by the Estate of Sylvia Plath. Editorial matter copyright © 1981 by Ted Hughes. Used by permission of HarperCollins Publishers.

#Daddy #Sylvia Plath #Elektra #Elektra Complex #Greek Literature

I think John was just so deeply suicidal that he didn't think about his kid's futures, or lives outside of The Mission, in part because he fully wasn't expecting to live long enough for that to be an issue. And then Sam leaves for Stanford and it melts his brain.

#spn.txt #elektra complex

Stop playing with those other girls. It makes me jealous baby. Why won't you be the only one? The only one. I’m your doll.

#spn.txt #dean barbiedoll truthing #elektra complex #freaky destiel kink tag #deanalistair #fkatwigsnatural #THIS IS MAKING ME CRAZY

#mommy issues #daddy issues #call out #self reflection #elektra complex

My aunt (Who knows how to sew) based the new nightdress that my mother ordered to please my father (now that they are dating again) on mine.

I’m quite sure my life is a psychoanalyst’s wet dream by now.

#Me #Daddy Issues #Elektra Complex #WTF is going on

With the frequency of evil female aliens on the programme,

it makes one wonder who had the Elektra Complex on the writing staff.

#Inspector Spacetime #UFO (series)#evil female aliens #a repeated theme on the programme #Elektra Complex #Electra Complex #someone on the writing staff #perhaps the early showrunner