Presented with love and gratitude. Poem “Ascension/Bring me higher” was written by me. Big ups to my homey, the 9th century poet, Cynewulf. My poem is inspired by his awesome work, Christ II. Images are from Tokyo Fashion Edge Magazine Volume 35, September 2019, with an overlay of handwritten runic and English scripts in watercolour. Have a healing week ahead.
Google is doing a terrible job stalking me on my new iPhone SE. Look at the ad they showed me (renting out your property circa death) while I was watching that Nicki Minaj video. Like, what exactly are they trying to imply? The Anaconda music video is at 943 million views, so I know you all saw it.
The Quarter Percent pays homage to Greek tragedies and is written in an episodic format with a ‘time-as-protagonist’ feel. I wonder if I should worry that some readers may not understand this even after I have suggested “focus on the timeline” in the two blurbs and the trailer? The story itself is based on William Shakespeare’s play Lear of Britain. We meet King Cordial on a Sunday morning and almost two weeks later, on a Friday morning, … read the novel.
I grew up around famous people and I know that for them, every problem is an image problem. The narrative style of The Quarter Percent is meant to illustrate the superficiality of this world. Quarter percenters are obsessed with what others think, and are doomed to live from one crisis to the next.
My question for you is do I need to create a long blurb for the back cover or should I trust readers to work things out for themselves?
… before it’s got off the ground. Anyone have a celebrity friend I can borrow?
Still using the new editor. You need lots of Real Estate in order to create a post. I’m on my phone. And no Siri that’s not a capital R and a capital E.
Today, I had a brilliant idea while I was having lunch. I dropped my food and wrote everything down.
Going off on a tangent here, let me say that I’m sick and tired of people telling me how amazing social media is for promoting myself. The number of unanswered tweets I read daily made me sad. On top of that, Twitter wouldn’t allow me to promote my tweets because my account was too new. It seems difficult to grow through organic engagement.
I read that on social media, between 4.7% to 5% engagement is good. And anything above 9% is rare. It is a lot of singing and dancing for paltry rewards. Therefore, I thought it would be efficient to use many existing networks to get my project idea out there. I want to meet and correspond with people who like to read books. I don’t know how many people are reading my chapters on this blog and I don’t want to trash my project because I don’t get a lot of feedback in this forum. The plan was to create redundancies by launching as many promotional campaigns as possible and renew them periodically.
Do I continue writing or do I shred my novel? I thought it would be a good idea to encourage people to sign up to beta read it chapter by chapter in chronological sequence. Based on demand or continued mailing list subscriptions, I could decide what to do next.
My plan so far: Readers who are interested in reading an entire book for free will subscribe to a mailing list and receive a new chapter each week. Subsequently, I will ask readers to share testimonials and links to my blog, or write reviews. I estimate it will take several months to a year.
Soon, I found everything I needEd for my campaign. All of the individuals I contacted were popular and sought after. They advertise shout outs, interviews and advertisements. I was thrilled. I typed out my stump speech, added some bona fides and messaged every one I could find.
Six hours later, almost everyone responded. I got three positive replies. However, most were not willing to do any promotion for a new author. Others needed to read the whole book first.
This means I may not get my project promoted as widely as I’d like even though it’s a FREE fiction novel. But isn’t that the point of promoting a product via a total influencer roll out?
I agree that name recognition helps. Chanel, Dior, Estée Lauder, Fancl and Shiseido give away skincare and makeup products all the time. They’re still able to sell full-size products for high prices.
Even so, I felt like a start-up skincare company being told by a beauty vlogger that they won’t even patch test my products because they’ve never heard of my “brand”. I appreciate everyone’s honesty and will now proceed to feel sorry for myself.Other images in this post are free from Unsplash.
Collage, one Saturday morning
x (∿°○°)∿ ︵ ǝʌol
Love is free and I am an equal opportunity ego butterer.
x (｡♥‿♥｡) 1000% ( ⋆•ิ ᴈ-ิ(ᵕ❥ ᵕ⁎ ॢ) x
… continued in Notes 5/3
Midst night it breaks,
does not put out.
“Betrayal,” meet “Desire.”
Plural eyes her life’s force renew.
Resurrection, hurry along,
woah, do me do.
Chaste the lark, unsung the blues,
warming lyric palettes, cooling lusty hues.
Two weeks, recall, I was so into you.
“Ah! Love, you know why it cannot be you.”
Please Stop Watching Porn
x Pecs Bowen
If you are a man and you do not watch porn, this is not for you. If you are a man, have watched porn and are repulsed by it, this is not for you. If you are a man, you have sex with women and you watch porn regularly, please continue reading.
It is my humble request to you, to please stop watching porn.
I am not asking you to stop watching porn because it degrades women or objectifies them, not also because it is hypocritical on your part. While you fight for the cause for women to have a life of dignity, you also contribute to the demand side of that profession. No.
I am asking you to stop watching porn for the sake of women who come back home with you to make love. Sex is such an incredible activity. Two people naked exploring each other’s bodies, learning ways to pleasure the other, building a rhythm, discovering a tempo, having a deeply personal experience together, something which is their own.
You do not need to take lessons or read a tutorial to know how to please a woman. It is something you can learn slowly and over time. Women do not really care if you cannot keep time or how many positions you switch or whether you look like one of those fellas in pornos. We really don’t.
What matters more is how much you are into it at the moment. What matters is the intensity of your need for us, what matters is the passion, intensity and caring at the same time. But these are general things, what your woman specifically wants cannot be learnt from a movie. You will learn it by spending more time with her in bed, by experimenting a bit (use your own imagination for this please, you will be surprised how much fun you can have if you just improvise on the spot) Read her body and moods and just be there with her wihout any preconceived notions on what works and what doesn’t.
I think it is silly, how many men, when it comes to dealing with, talking to or having sex with a woman leave their brains behind. They think we want what popular media says we want: Candlelight dinners, wild long lasting sex, a happily ever after. (Sigh.) How silly can you be?
It really breaks your lover’s heart when she learns that all that you ask her to do in bed, you do because you have seen other men do it to other women in a porno. You probably are expecting from her the same fake noises, and the same over the top enthusiasm for those gag things and those toy thingies.
We are not stupid you know. We have seen pornos. We have seen how men treat women in them. So if you treat our bodies like that, we know that while your heart is in the right place, your mind is somewhat perverted. And goodness gracious, what a turn off that is.
So please, please stop watching porn and make love us any way you want. Just not like how they do in porn films.
Illustration by Nadia Monsengo, a Netherlands based graphic designer.
Please visit her blog at African Artista. Her work is stunning. Thank you, Nadia.
Thank you for using mathematics to show how full of crap we are. I just had a thought, before reading this post, that the current system of dating is based on pride and lust. If only we knew that the reason we’re going to be miserable in relationships is that we’re trying to reach a statistical goal that’s unattainable.
iKu2e is a thoughtful, feeling man. He’s an engineer and he writes poetry. It is a tough read if you are math averse, but you are smart people so I would like you to please try to get to the bottom of it. For my part, instead of bombarding indifferent others with my feelings, I am going to be kind to the people who truly love me. Embracing them is a sensible plan.
Soul mates – Part V
A mathematical study of how many soul mates you have on this earth
This is my last post on the Soul Mates Research. I had no idea of soul mates before starting this research and now I am back to the state where I was. I explain why! What is a soul mate? The people around say there is one soul which was created for you. If you are the one thinking the same, stop it!
If you have one soul for you on the earth which is same as like yours, then the 50% of the people on the earth would be the soul mates of the other 50%, which seems to be a funny idea. The total number of people on the earth while I write is 7,300,757,312. Males and females percentage is 50.4% and 49.6% respectively.
None of the religions talk about soul mates, rather they give more importance to the single soul. All of them try to elevate each soul to the next level and give them a better place on the earth. World mythologies, yes they talk a lot about the soul mates as I described in Part II of this series.
Psychologists they just give opinions based on surveys, which is basically the idea of the people. There is no soul which exactly same as you or me, but there might be a 99.99% matching soul. Though this soul is matching yours, it might not help you achieve your purpose.
Out of 7,300,757,312 souls, that is 1.369720916974373e-8 % or 0.00000001369720916974373% is the percentage of people on the earth whom you are looking for. Still do you believe that you can meet that person?
But we can make some calculation to find out the number of soul mates for each soul on the earth. Remember, each soul can have many soul mates, not only one. If you believe in only one soul mate you are with the above percentage of people and don’t move on, you are free to go and search for that 0.00000001369720916974373% of people on the earth which I believe impossible in this lifetime.
There are many hypotheses that can be used to calculate the best match for your soul, but they relate to love. You do not have to be soul mates to be in a romantic relationship. That is the reason why I don’t want to use those hypotheses here. Let us assume that each soul mate shares some preferences / characters common to its soul mate. You want to meet every person for at least 1 seconds to decide if he/she is your soul mate.
In total, you need 7,300,757,312 seconds which is 231.35197997422 years on the earth. Do you think you can live 231 years on the earth?
Check your average age of your country and let’s limit the soul mate calculation within your age limit. Life expectancy of the world population varies from 85 years to 38 years. Considering that you live to the max age of 85 years:
231 years will be split into 231/85 = 2.717647058823529 times where the whole population also can be split into 2.717647058823529 times.
So you will be able to meet only 7,300,757,312/2.717647058823529 = 2686425850 people on the earth in the 85 years of your life.
2686425850 people into seconds into years = 85 Years! The highest life expectancy of the people on the earth! To further filter the people to meet your soul mate, Let us do this way, You can define the number of characters/preferences you expect in your soul mate:
Preferences or p = It might be 1,2,3,4,……n of characters/preferences.
You have p number of characteristics and you expect ‘k’ number of people.
Number of people matching your preferences = k
p = number of preferences, k = number of people who meet your demands
Assuming all the people have the same no of preferences, we have to find out a solution to match the demands to each other and find out the best matches. Using Binary logarithm of mathematics, where we assume the people in 2 dimensional array, we can find out the number of matching soul mates:
n+k*n = n*log2(k*n)
n = 2686425850 , number of people you have to meet in the 85 years of your life.
Solving this equation gives the value of ‘k’ as 35.4716 which can be taken as whole value of 35!
So you have 35 soul mates on the earth which can you meet in 85 years among 2,686,425,850 people.
There are lot of assumptions in the solution! We considered people as two dimensional data because each person has their own preferences and the person who is seeking his/her soul mate has his own set of preferences which has to be compared against each person in the dating pool of 2,686,425,850 persons. So it’s up to you accept it.
Nowadays, I don’t want to give advice to women friends when they come to me about their troubled relationships. I listen and ask questions. I ask them to answer their own questions. I do this because I don’t trust them.
In the middle of dinner, the phone rings. Everything they’ve said about him ten seconds before is incorrect.
I’m happy now. I can’t stop texting to put this spoonful of risotto in my mouth. He’s just liked my photo on Instagram. Oh, and I have to leave before dessert; he’s coming over to smoke and complain about the draft in my apartment.
They’re going to meet their crappy boyfriends. After a brief reunification ceremony, they tell their crappy boyfriends what I advised them to do. When things devolve again, my phone rings: “Let’s go out for lunch.” They want to cry on my shoulder. So, I say nothing.
Don’t shake your head. You’ve done this to your friends, too.
The post before this one, Forty, presents an actual conversation. Some parts of it were fictionalised. I asked “N” to speak loudly into her iPhone while I was teaching her to use Siri. I sat across the room and transcribed everything we all said. Two days later, she was doing somersaults in the same space, before dyeing her hair green. “He called me to say he loves me.”
Fix it, Jesus.
One woman, who was “over it” wrote on her blog, “Why am I even bothering with relationships at all? He won’t “lock me in” as his girlfriend”. I noticed the disempowering phrasing: “Lock me in” as if relationships were a form of confinement. I guessed that she was happy with her boyfriend, but I wrote to her anyway:
Men can act like shit but it’s only because they know you won’t leave them. He knows you want to be serious and it’s making him feel secure. That’s why he’s being unkind. I see from a recent post you have a boyfriend. I wonder if it’s the same one?
I was not surprised when she reported that it’s the same boyfriend and he is awesome now:
He’s done a complete 180. I told him he needed to modify his behaviour and act like he’s in a relationship or I would be leaving and he would end up a lonely old man.
So, why do women ask for support for their nightmare relationships when they know they’ll reverse themselves as soon as the situation settles?
I can’t deal with y’all.
When was the last time you showed your back to a man you really liked? When he’s spent all of three minutes being there for you, you could say, “Go home, I am going to do something else.” You think he won’t come back, so you endure the small injuries to your dignity.
This attitude is driving women bonkers: “I will be a fakey-fakey nice girl, and tolerate bull or he won’t propose to me”. Acting fake to keep him interested is what self help books advise you to do. But when he finally proposes, you don’t realise he means to live happily with your avatar.
One fakey-fakey friend told me a week after her dream wedding she didn’t like anything about her husband. I realised that she was pretending to be in love the entire relationship. I will never forget the day we sat down over a lunch of lamb brisket and she asked me what next steps to take because she neeeeeds him. I said, get married. They did, five months later.
I feel that a lot of women suffer because it is stressful to keep up a facade. I wonder if a therapist would prescribe medication for women to get through the fakery? But is it medication we need or might it not be compassion for ourselves and for other women? Every time we pretend to be okay with his annoying habits, we nurture another grass fed nincompoop.
A man bragged to me that he’d written a comment on his law professor’s blog, who then used his first name in response. I said, “You’re a grown man. Why are you happy about being patted on the head like a small child? Instead of writing comments on your professor’s blog, consider writing a book of your own.”
Your boyfriend might not want to write a book, but without being rude, show him where he needs to set a high standard for himself as a person. If he doesn’t make the effort and you don’t like what is in front of you, let go.
Photo credit: Figurines and happy young couple in a field, via Pixabay.
Make sure to hold down the home button.
Why are you ugly, green pepper faced fifty seven year old woman, hanging on this beautiful man?! What is special about you?! Disappear, and be gone!
That service is not available.
You have no attractive point!!!
Is this a new photo?
Yes. You can’t be photographed from the front …
Make sure to take a screen shot. Activate Siri first, and then talk to the photo, pay attention to the wave. When it stops, tap the mike icon again.
Okay, got it. You can’t be photographed from the front, you can only do a side by profile! You so ugly, I can’t stand your fat pig face!!! Why did you tell him you need five more years to divorce your husband? You’re married, and you have children and grandchildren. How can ugly woman like you get married to someone in the first place? Why can you force control unmarried man?!
There are no search results for Marie Dorothy.
Why is he loyal to you? You are bread faced girl. You are slice bread. If you stand in front of some grapes, someone mistake you for dried up onion.
I searched Wikipedia and this is what I found.
I cannot lose my mind to this slice of mackerel. This is not right!
Mackerel slices were found in these locations in Hell’s Kitchen.
How do you feel? You want to go some more?
I’m tired. I’m busy. I want to stop this and enjoy my life. I want to just forget the two of them. They disgust me. That doctor is dirty. His aura just makes my apartment dirty. You stinky old pervert! Shut up dammit. You know, he has no fashion sense. And that blonde hard wax hairstyle is crazy. He runs a hospital but needs to take drugs to wake up, stay up, go sleep, get up, get down. What the hell is he thinking dressing like circus?
What are you going to do about him?
I’m going to use him for money. He’s useless. Did you see this eighty dollar Pandora bracelet he bought for me? He never buys me anything cost over one hundred dollars. I’m forty years old. What is he thinking I am going to do with that?
Did you let him know you were worth more than that?
He’s just useless that way. And obviously, I am not going to tell J about him. J is for love. The doctor is for money. Only. But do you know what irritates me? J is such an amazing man. He’s talented in business, has a flawless aesthetic sense. He’s a model at sixty for goodness sake.
Okay. Just go with the music and let that out.
This is J’s island near Bali. He’s got river rafts and thirty staff. How does that man make himself so small for that pancake faced ghoul?!
Have you considered that he might just be a model, a stock figure with no real power in the relationship?
Yeah, I mean, no, it’s his business.
So why is it that he cannot simply cut ties with his business partner and as her lover?
And then there’s the … I can’t really understand him. It seems meaningless that she can say to him, “Don’t talk to her and block her phone number,” and he will just do as she asked. She controls him financially.
Perhaps there is another explanation that you haven’t thought of.
I think so, and I need to find it or else these feelings will not go away. He’s the first man I told “I love you”.
Not even your ex husband?
Not even him.
Alright. Do you want to shout some more?
No, I’m tired. I’m going to be friends with him. I don’t love him anymore. I don’t give a damn.
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Envy is the tax which all distinction must pay.” He’s probably never met a Glampion. A Glampion’s envy is the heavy tax which innocent bystanders are forced to pay. When someone picks on you, they might be living out a fantasy life inspired by someone famous, real or imagined.
Is it reasonable to say that these people have a twisted opinion of themselves? I think we each have different measures for our self concept. However, it is important to maintain a balanced perspective.
The theme of this post is “envy”. It could have been insecurity or defensiveness because often these three form a triad. Envy happens when others can’t be happy with what you have. Insecurity is most likely the trigger. Defensiveness is the easiest remedy: We measure our this with their that.
Power envy happens when Glampions secretly wish they could be as influential as [name a celebrity]. Their desires thwarted, they turn on someone they believe to be weaker than they are. People of this mindset either lack the capacity to face up to their own inadequacies or they don’t have the self confidence to thrive in the presence of others who are doing well. Many of the people we envy struggle in some way and would be fortunate to be in our shoes.
Why be so nasty and so rude, when I can be so fierce, so fabulous and so successful.
Nene Leakes, Sunday March 15, 2015, via her Twitter account.
Sometimes I really want to sock it to people who get it twisted. In doing so, I am mindful that there’s a difference between being fierce and being rude.
We can thrive in a world of talented, shining stars. It is hard to remember that because mediocre people dominate our news feeds. I believe we should set high standards for ourselves. Sometimes we will be discouraged. I think we should do as much as we can, and drop that when we want to try something else.
We work hard to become champions raised up by substantial wins. Sometimes, however, we might get distracted by two-dimensional tokens of achievement. This is where a balanced perspective plays a role. It allows us to measure the weight of our trophies before using them to browbeat others. When we do that, it is hard for Glampions to crush our spirits with their own paper-thin trophies.
For the benefit of others who lack perspective: Shine your own light. They don’t need to comprehend your brilliance for you to be a star in your own right. If you burn brightly enough, the blind may never see you, but your rays might penetrate through the skin.
Note: Updated November 22, 2016 @ 08.04. This post was originally published on March 17, 2015.
Penelope Slutfest Hannish, OPP, BDSM, BJ, HJ… Where is she? You are not a cow on a farm in the English countryside, so why are you mating with all the bulls?
I beg your pardon! How did you access this network?
Where is the boy? Don’t worry about resetting your system. An army of tech mercenaries owns your network. I told them of the rich data mining opportunities on your servers and you have their undivided attention. Because I’m kind, you will get three minutes to tell me where you’re keeping the little Martian boy, or they will turn off the power and jam open your outer doors. I will watch with pleasure as you and your tag team freeze to death in that …
You do not know what you’re talking …
I read your blog. According to this post, a mystery team rescued an extraterrestrial from a crashed ship and has him sedated and stashed somewhere ready for transport. According to these juicy emails, the “cargo” is stuck there until the end of October, when a crew from JAXA and ESA will come for him. My team traced the breadcrumbs you left on Mob Gnarley’s website back to you at these coordinates. You accessed your account and updated a post two minutes ago. We know that because we have been watching your every move for the past two hours. And let me say, you English hootchies are freaky.
The blog is fiction.
I do not believe that. Gnarley plagiarised you for his radio show and as he is trending on Twitter right now, it’s only a matter of time before your bosses catch on that you’ve been telling tales out of school. But that’s only the start of your problems.
This is ridiculous. I have nothi…
Sit down! You’re a mechanical engineer, which means you don’t have the imagination for storytelling. However, your attention to technical detail makes you give great head. I need to set up playdates to get laid in Manhattan and you’re getting tag teamed in a cave in Antarctica by men who have families? Is slutfesting part of your contract? And don’t tell me you’ve used protection. I’ve seen you.
You’re going to kill me over some nonsense I wrote on a secret blog to pass the time? Or because you envy my content rich sex life?
Call my bluff, you establishmentarian, government goon, triple penetration, ass cream guzzling, whorebag slut!
Look, I can be in a lot of trouble just for even talking to you. I signed confidentiality contracts.
Do you recognise me?
A Martian boy is lost here on this planet and his father is right now in orbit, waiting for me to tell them where to pick him up. It took him a year to get here. You better hope he’s alive.
I can’t help you. I don’t have any authority.
You know where he is. The fuck with your job. Where is your humanity?
This is not my fight.
You’re willing to precipitate a Martian invasion because you’re too up yourself to see the big picture.
All you need to do, to make this all go away, is point me and them in the right direction.
Tell you what. Let me give the go ahead and open the doors. Split screen… It is negative thirty Celsius outside at the moment. Bitch, you see that? That is your five hundred thousand dollar, state of the art, icebreaker, slash snow plough, slash snow blower…it’s full of fuel and is now reversing at full speed towards your door. Wait for it… Wait for it…
She scores! Let your bukkake boyfriends pick that up. I’ve just… sent a message with your exact coordinates to his father and his grey warriors. They’re something fierce and the third. And they are coming to have a talk with you. The door is wide open, so they’ll walk right in and terminate your funk ass.
What the… Oh my … my … arrrrr…. head feels weird… Urrr… Ruuuu….
Siemus, can you see that metallic stuff sticking to the walls? I think they’re there already. That was fast.
They might have already been in the area. Why’s she suspended in mid air? And her eyes are moving really fast, like a skipped CD or something.
It’s the metal in her suit. I’m guessing they’re focusing a really strong laser or magnet on her coordinates. If her rapid eye movement is anything to go by, they are using something like a eleventh generation FMRI to search her visual cortex.
You think they can physically retrieve information on his whereabouts, from her brain?
You can stop feeling guilty about your talent, Lilibeth. I think your tech is generations more advanced that what the Martians are using.
That’s a scary thought. For my sex life. I need to make a call to finalise the last leg of this trip. I want to collect some trophies…ah, I meant…to do a thorough cleanup before the JAXA and ESA assholes get there.
Siemus, stay on the bitch. What am I saying? Her brain’s magnetically fried forever, so she’s not going anywhere. I meant, signal me as soon as you have on screen confirmation of their arrival.
- Halley VI: The World’s First Modular Research Station in Antarctica. Hugh Broughton Architects.
- Davis after a blizzard. Snow covering the exterior wall of the Living Quarters. Courtesy, Antarctica, Australia Government. May 30, 2014.
- Snow vehicles for Antarctic Observation via Ohara Corp Japan.
- Reconstructed images from FMRI brain scan of the visual cortex, from research by Shinji Nishimoto, University of California, Berkeley
So, Jack told Emily:
“You have to know that there’s someone out there that’s a better fit for you (me).
I realise that my timing’s terrible.
I can’t watch you be with anyone else.
I don’t know what the future holds.
I have one certainty in life and it’s how I feel about you.
It’s always been you.
Life is messy. You find a way.“
Season 4, Episode 15 of Revenge, “Kindred” (Abridged)
What happens after you say, “yes” to a declaration like this. Is there a next? Does anyone out there have a clue? I’ve rearranged the words so the outcome reads the way things normally go, after you declare yourself to your soulmate. Your soulmate will say…
Realise I have to watch for a way.
I feel in the future, I’ll find a messy, terrible someone.
Anyone else. Can’t be you.
That person will fit me better.
POSSIBLE TRIGGER（≧∇≦）This post discusses suicide threats.
I happened on a post by a Presser who stated, “Need to end this all. This blog, this life, this everything. Nothing’s worth it.” I wrote in her comments in these exact words:
“I can’t believe you’re going to give up right now because you messed up? If you know you made some mistakes it means there’s a human being in there. Frustration means you’re right on target to a breakthrough. You need a hand? Ask for it! Everyone’s “hand” looks different but whatever you need, I trust that you do have the support you need to pull through. Get mad but by all means, get changed.”
What do I mean by get changed? Organically, there might be something that’s pulling you towards an outcome that’s good for your well being. Anger and frustration are internal mechanisms for focusing you away from counterproductive behaviors or attitudes. Those negative feelings are telling you that you’ve overlooked something important. Easier to say than to swallow. Exactly. And these things take time: They’re part of a process.
The Presser might come over here and see this, and it’s fine. I felt compelled to write this post after reading that and hearing this same sentiment just hours before, from another woman. She said she might die by the end of March. When I said, no one is planning on executing you, she said, “I might do it myself.” I take all suicide threats seriously. If they’re on blogs and they’re in front of me, I say something to the author. To be clear, and I’m not saying that this is the case here, but saying you’re going to “get out” in order to get attention is super double plus uncool.
I think I’m a compassionate human being, but I was angry at the way this last statement was tossed out. You’re so hooked on being a married woman that rather than get a divorce, death is a reasonable option? I asked her if she didn’t see the wealth of opportunities in front of her. I enumerated them.
Lastly, I told her to go and find herself a pair of sequined shorts and grab a younger, cuter, taller, buffer volleyballer. Shag each other rotten. Take away your estranged husband’s power to belittle you and grind you into the dirt. Choose to feel like a woman who is desired. I don’t care if she’s technically still married. Don’t get on my nerves with your sanctimonious horse bullocks. Elvis has left the building and is shacking up with Elvira. They’re traveling together. He bought her a house. She drives his Mercedes. Their digital schedules are synced.
“NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THE PAIN. NO ONE.” That’s partially true. No one might understand your pain, as it is tailor made for you. However, we all understand pain. I saw a beautiful painting today by an artist who was crying as she painted it. I said I only saw a joyful celebration of colors. I was lifted by it, and by the time she responded to my comment, she was feeling a lot better. The pain hasn’t all gone away. Maybe she’ll feel awful later. So be it. My point being, we all heal differently, and some of us are more effective at using it than others.
I’m taking myself out of the equation now, and not making this about how I will feel. For your own sake, say, “I’m struggling and I don’t know how to cope.” That’s honest, real and very much a situation to which I can respond, “What do you need?” Or make suggestions yourself, “I need attention. I need reassuring words. I need you to tell me off.”
I’m not naive; nothing’s fixable with a hug, a chat and a cup of tea, but I’m an advocate of feeling your feelings and allowing them to overwhelm you. No medication, drugs, wine, smiley faces or compensating. You’re a human being. Pain is painful, and that’s kind of the point.
Guest post by Beatrice Lewis of A House of Secrets.
“Women have a wonderful instinct about things.
They can discover everything except the obvious.”
Where do I begin? This [post] was a great summation of what disarray the state of “Womenry” is from what you’ve been reading on blogs; I too have seen the same written material over and over on very popular “help” sites. I’ve never seen myself look at the men in my life as “prizes,” nor the gifts they’ve given, rings, and such; perhaps I’ve equated them to a gift of payment for dealing with their crap; although I always refund the “money.”
I don’t quite understand the concept that men are “mine.” From my prior experience with my “best friend” turned stalker; I found myself acting or performing a role of vigilante wanting to protect other women from him taking them down too; because I was “his,” I was his property in his mind with exorbitant expectations placed on me. I would never want this placed on someone else.
Who am I? And after three attempts of self-sacrificing and staying in a toxic place; I realized it wasn’t my job to protect other women from this guy, but what I could do was tell my story and let other women take whatever tool I could give them to shed some light on their own personal situations.
I considered my story horrific in terms of how humans treat each other (outside other horrific crimes). I was very naïve to mental illness, mental instability, and grand manipulation; I thought I was smart enough to protect myself against falling into a victim role. And when everyone tried to warn or protect me; I was selfish, went against the grain, trying to prove I could ride in and “save” or “protect” a person with my magnificent powers. I laugh out loud when I think of this. Oh, when will we stop lying to ourselves?
As a teenager, I spent a lot of my time testing my mother on boys. I would ask, “What if he was black, what if he was Asian, what if he was Mexican, what if he was in a band?” And on and on I would test her. Her response every time was, “As long as he was good to you, treated you well, and doesn’t hurt you, it doesn’t matter “what” he is.”
My mother had always taught us, people are people. Men, women, kids, etc., we’re all just human beings, we are not “owned” by anyone, even parents don’t “own” their kids. I’ve also learned from many men I’ve dated that the line of respect falls into our humanness.
Accept those, as you would want to be accepted. Respect space, time, character, morals, values, and beliefs, and in return the right person you choose to be with will most likely grant you the same respect. Mostly men, have set society governance’s, ideas, and formulations of how women should behave; hence Feminism, but even feminism gets it wrong because once again feminism divides us, by color, ethnicity, gender, etc., etc; it does not unite women as human beings.
My experience finding even girl friends have been terrible because I don’t fall into their “ideals” of how we should act. If I’m gonna gossip, I’ll write; if I’m gonna compete, I’ll play a sport; and if I’m really hard up for that ring, I work, I can buy it; and if I want a partner, I want a side-kick. I’ve just wasted 14 years of my life on drama. It’s too short for me to waste 14 more, so I write. I’m trying to figure my life out. I’m leaning to go back to the things that I love, and learning to love myself all over again. There are hard choices I had to make and it means I’ve left behind quite a few people. It was necessary to leave some men and women behind.
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I thank Beatrice Lewis at A House of Secrets for taking the time to press it out. I read her blog with a great deal of interest so I knew this response would merit its own space. Her essay is a response to my statement in X: “I still can’t understand dating as a concept. Let me blame it on how I was raised. I’ve always related to men as people and not as a potential someone or other. I’ve always just organically … You know what? I’m usually busy doing something.” Any other takers? Be brave, I’m waiting for you. Thank you for reading, SB.