Tag: women

Categories
People

SOS

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.

Categories
women

Reader response to X

Guest post by Beatrice Lewis of A House of Secrets.

“Women have a wonderful instinct about things.
They can discover everything except the obvious.”
Oscar Wilde

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.

ahouseofsecrets

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.

:::—-::: （＾_＾） :::—-:::

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.

Categories
women

X

The majority of subscribers to this blog are men, so I write under a heavy cloud because I’m not actually talking about them. I’m talking about the types of men that women subscribers are talking about. So, you lovely gentlemen can relax.

I’ve been reading a lot of reflections and conversations around subscribers’ blogs and I realise that many women are on the same page. Instead of being mean spirited or competitive with each other over who can get the best boys, women who have certain relationship issues in common need to participate in more conversations with each other.

You know how you get, when you’re in a relationship and he’s your boyfriend and he’s your prized possession and you have that smug expression on your face? “Poor single women. They’re so sad and they have no sex lives.” They’re camels. I read that last comment somewhere on WordPress. How rude, as if sex were a “must do.” Asexuality is an orientation, too. And so is choice.

What I’m seeing on blogs is the backside of the promised reality. At the reverse of smug, self satisfied expressions, I see that women have been feeding and caring for some lunkheads. Our continued attention to certain personality types has encouraged these men to feel that choosing to be in a relationship with us is the best thing they could ever do to validate us as women. It is within their power to recognise us as desirable creatures. Our infinite patience with their indifference, emotional incontinence and wishy washiness has turned those types of men into rotten little beans.

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.

My ideal partner would be a culinary artist who is obsessed with making ceramic pots and works as a carpenter in his free time. Or, a surgeon who’s looking into patients’ insides all day and has lectures at mid week and asks me to read his papers before publishing them. Busy with his hands or mind, having real responsibilities. Zero time to muck about. Too tired to wreak havoc in my life.

When I landed on my planet, expatriate women didn’t even have conversations with men. They just had intercourse with any man that looked at them sideways. The expectation was, “I like you and I’m easy, so let’s have sex.” It was a bacchanal. Two expatriates (man and woman) are right now sitting about eight feet away from me. They are talking loudly about “sleeping with people” and awarding points. They must be miserable if they have to talk at that volume in a Starbucks with small children nearby. No decorum. Nothing has changed.

I was scolded by expatriate male colleagues who told me I’m confusing the two things: Sex and love. I’m not confused. You are living with your girlfriend so why are you asking to visit my apartment?

Those free and easy women are now having issues with the men they spoiled. These men are educated, articulate, wealthy and up to ten years older. They’ve never grown up because relationships were never something to work at. A girlfriend was a sex partner with whom he shared a home and a joint bank account. A wife was a long term sex partner, now platonic friend, cook and sock washer that he owed something for her waity perseverance. That something? The Ring.

These words are going to be hard to read, but a ring is not a prize. It’s an accessory. I want women to stop acting like the Ring is the best thing that is ever going to happen to us. We must stop giving control over our circumstances to the promise of the Ring.

I received my first Ring when I was twenty two. I immediately assessed its weight in carats. Didn’t like. I promptly handed it back but took it back again half a second later when I realized that I was going to hurt his feelings. It was a ring after all. Behind my refusal was a very insensitive statement he’d made before we became exclusive. He had hinted that he was planning to live in Europe and therefore the high point would be sleeping with European women. He apologised for that gaffe near proposal time, but I knew it was damage control. When he got on the plane, I handed the ring to my sister. She lost it at a party or gave it to a friend or something.

Then, a month later he said I should not feel stresses or strains or have personal problems because imagine I’m engaged and he’s calling from Europa every morning before my daily workout to say hello and blah… Whatever.

The next day, I moved into the university’s dormitory. A friend gave me her room because she was living with her boyfriend. Three months later, I had proposals from better prospects. They were variously, incredibly good looking; fit; delicious; kinky and adventurous; considerate; sensitive; emotionally connected; wealthy; educated; well travelled; aristocrats.

I turned them all down.

Categories
news

Versus

I need world peace right now, because I’m in the middle of something. Actually, we all have something better to do with our time. Being on a news diet has made me extra sensitive. Try not reading the news for three months straight, and you’ll be horrified at what’s presented to you when you finally decide to catch up.

I had no intention of posting any non fiction asides in the middle of this important phase of my creative work, but this Islamic State kidnap, torture, kill for the camera boondoggle has gone past ludicrous and into straight up cartoon gaga. Is this actually continuing, right now? A group of ragamuffins in balaclavas has brought shame to the manicured Toastmasters acting as leaders of industrialised nation states.

I’d once written in my Gravatar introduction that the very tools that we use to destroy each other can be used to build us up, or was it vice versa. Social media was used to spread a snuff film around the world, and Rupert Murdoch’s wet nurse, Piers Morgan, has gone versus himself in the Daily Pail Mail. He now wants all Muslims to watch a snuff film, because he feels it will cure them of their sympathy for these mass murderers. I didn’t watch the video, and couldn’t make it through a single one of the news reports on the situation.

What the Jordanian pilot’s sadistic execution drew from me was first a memory, and then understanding. When the Taliban destroyed a large statue of the Buddha in Afghanistan in the early noughties, I received sympathetic phonecalls and emails from almost every corner of the planet. People wanted to know if I was okay. At the time, the video footage was on a shortlist of the most horrific things anyone had seen. It was a moist backwardness, a soiled intolerance.

I was a new expatriate, and a practicing Soto Zen Buddhist, which was not something people at home “get.” They think going to temple to meditate for an hour is like a snack before meals: “Go to church, too, to even things up.” I think not. I respect the religious beliefs of others because it wasn’t always a courtesy offered to me.

I respect your religion to a point, though. I’m openminded to a point because, I am familiar with the mindset of the people who destroyed that statue. Living outside of my home country has afforded me many privileges. One of them is meeting people from almost every culture, race and creed.

I know that burn the prisoner mindset very well. It is a baked in lacquer of determined retrogression. It is tinged with envy towards the unattainable. There is no dislodging it. Nothing can wash it away. No amount of exposure to other cultures, no invitation to exhibit or present at international conferences can shake these people of their conviction that they’re supreme and have the right to dictate the way things are. Theirs is an unshakeable narcissism.

At home, we have a disparaging term for that. We would say they’re “country people.” It’s a vicious objection to anything that falls outside of a narrow parameter of prescribed knowledge. What is not understood must be destroyed with spite. I touched on it in a separate essay, but that was in relation to the Charlie Hebdo issue. I had forgotten the Buddha’s demolition and how I felt the blood seemingly drain from my body.

Of course, I know it’s just a statue, so that’s not what had frightened me. I felt as if I was in mortal danger. For what? Not praying five times a day? I stopped telling anyone I was a Buddhist after that. I definitely did not say it to Muslim friends or acquaintances, because I liked them and I didn’t want them running off. Mind you, now I’m a different creature and I defy anyone to coerce me into any minimum position.

I know that in Islam, religious sculptures are forbidden. “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image” Exodus 20:4, is the Christian version of that. I remember, when I was about four or five, my grandmother screaming at one of my uncles. Almost all of her sons had an artistic or creative gift, and his was for carving wood into works of art. The walls of my home were decorated with paintings, ceramic objects and wooden sculptures. All of them done by my uncles. I remember her angry shouting after he had used an axe to destroy the wooden pieces, which his new family, a Pentecostal church, had called “graven images.” She was so angry, she forgot to use her favourite adverb, raasclaat.

When I catch up with colleagues who are Muslim, I make sure not to adorn myself with any jewellery that has religious symbolism. Otherwise, I have to answer lots of questions and justify everything. I wear plain clothing. I can adjust my behaviour to that extent, and that should be it. My life is not forfeit.

What is my point… The words can’t form, but it’s something in the region of, we’re all in mortal danger of being burned alive by rigid and closedminded people. They don’t kidnap and torture us, but they hold us hostage with their approval. I’ve already been told to shut up about what I’m presenting here in this installation, and those memories came back.What if I weren’t in the safe haven provided by an industrialised country? What if I were a wife and mother whose husband threatened to kill her because her imagination was expanding beyond the scope of that allowed by her religion? What if I were stifled by low self worth and fear of negative appraisal?

The most important question is, how does one stamp out Islamic State and its promoters, because that’s the only way forward. The Islamic State has nothing to do with religion. It is another way of saying “greed” and “barbarism”, which are both versus Islam. It is everywhere, in the “Are you doing God’s will, which I know, because I know what God says, and you can’t challenge me because God wouldn’t like that” and the “I’m my husband’s inflatable sex toy and won’t wear tights because sexual feelings are bad” and not just the “Pay us $200 million or we will kill this man who’s risked his life to save his friend.”

For my part, I’ll continue publishing this installation. I’ve already taken a great deal of time and effort to create it. I will enjoy the benefits of having a voice, a personality, coherent thoughts, a healthy love for myself, access to technology and a willingness to acknowledge that others are doing the same.

Categories
fashion fiction women

Camera Obscura

The body is a container.
In it we protect the vital parts of our physical selves.
It’s a minimum representation of the self
and should not weigh heavily in judgement of who we are.
When we adjust it to alter how others relate to us, it becomes, at that point,
a camera obscura.

Jupiter
Tell me about your week.

Lara
It has been a revelation. I made minimum effort at everything. On the first day, I walked into the office with my shirt half buttoned, chipped nail polish, hair unkempt. I greeted no one. I found it interesting that no one seemed to notice me. It occurs to me I want a medium tan. Carla Paine. She just oozes self confidence. So I walked out and did that. Missed an appointment with a client. I had him meet me for brunch at the Trattoria. I lied and told him I was working on his stuff and used the travel time to punch out a strategy. He kissed me full on the lips after hearing my pitch. I sauntered back into the office at two and my boss asks me to run point on a huge account. Day one. I literally did nothing all morning. As you’ve heard, the rest of the week goes like that.

Jupiter
It seems to me that with the freedom of being, you exuded this power.

Lara
It would seem so. I got things done while relaxing. This makes no sense though.

Jupiter
Before questioning the fairness of it, how will you use your power?

Lara
I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed with this feeling of wholeness. I want nothing. I need nothing.

Jupiter
Let’s cement this idea in our cloud because these feelings can be transient. What does “want nothing” feel like?

Lara
I have everything and it’s all a rich, palpable having. The answers are all up to me and they’re all correct.

Jupiter
I’m going to note that statement for later because I really need you to discuss the meaning in depth. It’s time to move to phase two. After this session ends, go to the Thermage Therapy Centre on Lexington Avenue. The treatment will burn out all of your fat cells. They’ll roll your skin flat and PowerPlate you to get things moving.

Lara
Wow?!

Jupiter
That’s not all. Through separate procedures, fat will be injected into your breasts and blood proteins into your face. They’ll pump you full of placenta, glutathione, Vitamin C and growth hormone. You won’t need to exercise for six months. I made an appointment for you. You get forty percent off.

Lara
Okay …

Jupiter
It’s preparation for an experiment. I’m making a point but you need to put yourself through this first. Then, go to my salon tomorrow afternoon. They will colour your hair blonde and flatten it. In the evening, get rid of every shoe in your closet that’s lower than four inches in heel height. Dress as you’ve done this week.

Lara
Okay.

Jupiter
Then, you’re not a smoker, so develop a video game habit. I have some suggestions. If you feel a deep, self reflective thought creeping in, grab a game. Focus. When the thought goes away, stop.

Lara
No problem.

Jupiter
What’s the most menial task at the office?

Lara
Coffee runs, filing, archiving, stationery inventory.

Jupiter
Go to the office an hour early and do the filing and inventory. Repeat for one hour at the end of every day no matter how late. In fact, go to your office on Sunday and work on the backlog. Do it thoroughly and double check your work.

Lara
Alright. And…coffee runs?

Jupiter
Yes. Do them every morning for the rest of the month. Inventory and filing exercises go for these two weeks, too. No longer. I want to be able to bring you back. Most importantly, you cannot spend more than one hundred dollars in the two weeks. This is a prepaid credit card. Keep the receipts. We will go through them. You may accept charity, beg, steal or trade sexual favours. If you can’t afford to eat, go hungry. Subsist.

Lara
I think I understand where you’re going with this. What’s the outcome?

Jupiter
You’re now a minion. Outcomes are not part of your cognitive framework. You have no higher order thinking skills. Survival is the name of your game. I want you to really feel that side of her. According to you, she’s the perfect woman. She is coveted by the man you desire. What does a skinny blonde of average height with a smoking habit and an entry level job feel every single day? Occupy that existence. Answer the question by living her life.

Categories
fashion fiction men women

Cloud therapy

Lara
I feel so used, and just icky!!

Jupiter
What does that have to do with you?

Lara
I don’t understand.

Jupiter
What’s wrong with you.

Lara
Nothing. He flicked me away like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. I’m out of ideas about how to prove myself to him.

Jupiter
What are you proving? Tissues.

Lara
Thanks. My value. My worth.

Jupiter
Alright. What if I said, objectively speaking, a man would be blind to not notice you?

Lara
That is my problem. I was rejected anyway.

Jupiter
Again. What’s wrong with you?

Lara
I’m the problem?

Jupiter
Yes, you are the problem. I would like you to take responsibility for the rejection you’re facing. Do not blame him. He is not wrong to be indifferent you.

Lara
This is hard. Isn’t he wrong to not acknowledge me as a sexual threat?

Jupiter
No.

Lara
I can’t do this right now.

Jupiter
Let’s work this out today. Let us work towards a consensus that you can lean on during the upcoming week. We will stamp it out in later sessions. Come on. Tell me what’s wrong with you.

Lara
I have jet black hair. It is really frizzy. Oh, God… I’m short. I’m … uhh… struggling to be at my ideal weight. I dress conservatively because of my job so I can’t look fuckable on a twenty four hour cycle!!!! I obsess about Karajan and I get a small panic attack if I have to pick things off the floor. I’m in my thirties. I have crooked teeth?

Jupiter
What does he want?

Lara
Blonde Kim Kardashian lookalike with blue eyes, spotless complexion that feels like marshmallow to the touch, early twenties with perfectly white teeth, D cup and a tiny waist. Her naturally blonde hair is very long, luscious, super soft and tossed dry, it’s perfection. She’s sweet, easily influenced, passive and not opinionated. She smokes, has a minimum wage job and dresses provocatively all day, every day. If I looked like that, he would be nice to me…

Jupiter
Leave him out of this.

Lara
I’m not effortlessly pretty. I work hard at looking like a woman. It’s time consuming, expensive and I need a team of friends to fix me. I overthink things, have too many hobbies and interests and I work hard to cultivate friendships. Being me is a full time job.

Jupiter
So you’re a short, fat, ugly nerd with a mind of your own and friends who look after you.

Lara
Yes.

Jupiter
Say it slowly.

Lara
I’m a short, fat, ugly nerd and I need friends who look after me.

Jupiter
Say it again. This time, take a deep breath and say it like it’s a compliment.

Lara
I’m a short, fat, ugly nerd and my friends are really nice to me.

Jupiter
Say it again. Transform into a vampire and stare me down.

Lara
I’m petite, I’m plain and I rock the androgynous look. I live in my head. I don’t have friends. I have minions. They worship and adore me.

Jupiter
Let’s put this last concept in our cloud. The concept that all this is part of your glorious being.

Lara
Okay. I hate that I’m not good enough…

Jupiter
Stop. It’s in our cloud. This upcoming week, voice record a journal. Make as many entries as you like. When you feel something, record it. Message all memos to me without editing. You will normcore it to work. Make minimum effort. Wear the same clothes every day if you like. Do not blow dry or iron your hair after a shampoo. Moisturising products only. Don’t wear makeup.

Lara
Alright.

Jupiter
Do not pay lip service to this. I need you to feel a freedom in being yourself. And you do that by embracing those things you say he’s rejected. You own them, you display them. Pay attention to your feelings and let’s get on this next session?

Lara
Thanks. I’m sorry, I just …

Categories
Earth Her Dark Arts

Section Two: Present Day

January 21 ‐ February 1

Fictional posts and art go above this sticky header. There may be some not safe for work material, so please be over the age of consent in your country. The contents of this blog may not be safe for work, and that’s the best thing about it.

The preface explains what I’m doing in this installation. Some of the characters have appeared in previous stories, and they include Jupiter, Lara, Marcus and Storm.

If you’ve landed here from outside of the WordPress box, you may want to look at previous art projects including the sticky ones below, or fiction scripts. If you press the like or follow button or leave a comment, please make sure that your website information is correct otherwise, I won’t be able to find your blog.

My heartfelt gratitude goes to readers for your warm support for Section One.

Categories
marriage men women

Girl, yuh gone

This is not the super fabulous popcorn movie review site, but I’ll try my best. I have been resisting the urge to watch any film not a Mission Impossible instalment, but after watching someone’s walls cave in as she was faced with a crumbling marriage, I relented. I took her to see the film Gone Girl, this afternoon.

My aim was to illustrate to her that her marriage problems were not easily fixable and that she needed to not ask her friends and family to persuade an emotionally abusive man to stay with her. It is disrespectful and he’ll definitely react against any form of emotional blackmail. He said he wanted a one year separation and I advised her to go with it, along with a detailed separation contract so that she’s not financially supporting her husband’s mistress. It’s sound advice, which is what I thought she wanted but she says its impossible to agree to be separated because they’re married. Completely twisted logic, at which point I thought I would stop giving any more advice.

Her priest, relatives, mentors and attorney have already advised her to sign off on his petition to divorce. Their message, “You’re being abused. Don’t put up with it.” I asked her what she thought of this advice and she says she’ll allow him any number of mistresses and help repay his huge debts if he stays in the marriage. This was said even as she complained that he spent her savings on a Mercedes Benz; while her husband’s Disneyland trip with another woman was marked in his calendar. Even as the repayment notices piled up in her post box, she asked everyone around her to cheer her on and guarantee results in the situation. Then she complained that he casually had breakfast, which she prepared for him, minutes before leaving with his stuff. Insane, right? Now you know why I was screaming in my head as I calmly listened to all that. Lots of women behave like this when they should be losing their patience.

As I’ve discussed in October, a woman in love is her own worst enemy. My cousin will end up in exactly this position someday, and she is already incapable of seeing her situation objectively or hearing any reasonable advice. I found the film, Gone Girl, to be underwhelming for the hype. (What is it with the US media and the silly reactions to nothing in particular?)

However, there are valuable lessons to be learned from the story. It situates the characters at the lowest point of anticlimax. They are crushed by the weight of failure, but refuse to comfort each other. As it turns out, they love their own avatars. Ben Batfleck’s character is the type of guy who demands, even believes that he is entitled to, the hottest woman in town. He believes his awesomeness will convince the woman to relinquish her right to a perspective. His every pronouncement is ambrosia, his bodily secretions are nectar.

Hotness. You don’t marry a person’s body parts. You marry their principles. This is someone you trust with your life, but most people I know are not honest enough to admit they get caught up in that checklist of physical, sociocultural and financial assets. In doing so, they ignore the seed of bigger problems that will explode in the marriage later. The mistakes are made over and over again. The lessons are never learned.

Any woman can let a man talk and talk about his dreams and visions and go along with them to win his approval. But how many men would marry a woman who says, “You deluded wanker. Find something useful to do”? Women are taught that it’s important to support a life partner no matter what, and many are prepared to lie to “get” one. Rosamund Pike’s character is interesting because she knows that her husband wants to be fed lies, and he needs to prop up his fragile ego. He’s prepared to marry a pathological, manipulative vampire in order to get his ego stroked. She needs to go darker and darker in order to maintain the first lie, which is that she thinks he’s awesome.

Lying requires a lot of energy, so when Rosamund’s resources are depleted, Ben Batfleck’s character needs a buxom young girl who is easily influenced to help him with his self esteem problem. He trains his mistress by praising her underwear. After that, he feeds her the “us” fantasy and sends her on her way, to self-delude on her own time. He lets her believe that frantic assignations in his office will guarantee his love and devotion. He should have thought of this strategy the first time around, and married a young, naïve girl. But he lied to himself in the first place, thinking he was able to take on a sophisticated, overexposed woman and force her to submit to his mediocre ideations. “I’m better than you, and I can control you,” is what he is thinking. He does not have what it takes to achieve this, because Rosamund had the jump on him from “Hello.”

The person I saw the movie with said it was a timely intervention. In the same breath, she set about creating a social media account to keep up with her husband’s mistress. Her husband got it right with her, his second time around the marriage wheel. He took advantage of her inexperience and rigid thinking. Fifteen years later, she is prepared to endure anything because her mother-in-law assured her he will come back, eventually, “dead or alive.”

Batfleck’s problem is that he’s not a smooth operator. He figured he would ask an overly pampered muse for “a divorce.” Because life’s that simple, right? Use the woman and discard her when she is straining to hold it together for you. The bulk of the film shows his acknowledgement of the fact that his freedom is fair exchange for undeserved praise. He was insane to think that any woman that was happy to go along with his delusions would not devolve into a bloodthirsty psychopath.

Categories
celebrity fashion news women

Vintage x Glamour

While I’m not a fan of boxy Chanel jackets, I am all for the dressy daytime look. I love swing skirts, chiffon shift dresses in the flapper style, and A line dresses. They’re classic, modern, and vintage all at the same time. I knew I got it right, for instance, when someone told me I looked like a member of the von Trapp family, then burst into song. That was exactly the look I was going for.

Nowadays, the trend is for natural fibres and jersey fabrics that look already worn and distressed so they have a lived-in feel. They give the illusion that you are relaxed and comfortable in your outfit.

I love a worn-in frock as opposed to something too crispy and obviously new. Although, don’t carry car tyres around in a chiffon skirt. I Emperor’s New Clothes’d myself on Sunday, after ripping out the hem.

It’s winter and it is the time for mesh tights and peep-toe heels (indoors of course, I’m not daft). As for accessories, there should be no maximum. There are things you can get away with if you’re oblivious to criticism. Otherwise, wear heavy sunglasses.

I’m not against jeans and t-shirts, but I am no longer a supporter of the “easy uniform” look. Partly because at some stage, you have to make the effort, for yourself. Truth be told, I envy women with flat bottoms who can fit in a pair of skinny jeans (and pencil skirts). My waist is narrow, so belts provide no defence against people looking down the back at my bottom.

It’s a problem that’s solved by not wearing jeans at all. I stopped altogether in 2008, because I would get mistaken for a high school student at the archery range. I started wearing eyeliner and chiffon skirts for casual wear. I’ve got a beautiful pair of high heeled Anne Klein cowboy boots that have nothing to do, in my closet. If I can find a way to get my waist enclosed in a pair of jeans that fit without making the hip area look baggy, I will bring them out again.

Madonna’s breasts are exposed for the most recent issue of Interview Magazine, where she is conversing with David Blaine. While people are going to tell her to put them away, I say this is a work of art, and posing for it is the right thing to do.

Madonna has been fighting for the right to express herself for more than thirty years. She’s inconsistent in her manner and outspoken in her self-belief. We don’t believe in her. While other women in the spotlight have been lauded for their contribution to society and culture, Madonna has always been pilloried, lampooned, thrashed. Even Victoria Beckham, who was once asked by a Sunday Times journalist to please stop wearing high heels, and was once the laughing stock of the UK, has been asked to represent her country and now speaks on behalf of AIDS.

People like to make fun of Madonna for trying to beat the clock and not succumbing to the ravages of time, but I think there’s an insecurity to her that keeps her constantly seeking out ways to improve herself. Isn’t that great? An excerpt from the article:

BLAINE: I think this is also a really important [quote] from Henry Ford, “Thinking is the hardest work there is, which is probably the reason so few engage in it.” And the reason I say this is because when I met you …

MADONNA: A hundred years ago.

BLAINE: I went with you to a museum and you had the whole Edward Hopper show to yourself. I remember you were jotting down ideas while looking at the art. I’ve done crazy manual labor—I did construction—and I can say that it’s easier for me to do any stunt than it is to actually figure out what I’m going to do. Thinking is the hardest thing. Like a friend said when I was young, “You know, what Michael Jackson does is easy.” We were, like, 10. But most people assume that it’s easy because you work so hard to make it look like there’s no effort.

Madonna in Interview Magazine

There’s a sweet spot between the ages of 32 and 48 where a woman has to preserve her dignity and peer esteem by keeping seventy percent of her body covered, staying away from spontaneous assignations, and doing interesting things by herself. That’s the time to enforce a zero tolerance policy for mean-girl/mean-boy bullying, putdowns or underappreciation of any kind.

If you’re still as sculpted as you were at 28, at the age of 56, as Madonna is, then I agree, one hundred percent, that you should flaunt all of yourself. All bets are off. Do whatever you want; do what feels right to you. “Burn it down,” as we’d say at home.

Perhaps Madonna has not realised the true purpose of her life. It is to expose herself just for the sake of it. Her body is a function of deprivation, torture and suffering. She will not bleed and die for our right to be seen and heard, but she can document for us the struggle to stay fit, healthy and fertile.

Madonna has done something important, not just with this stunning work, but through the sharing of her reflections. She’s given women over the age of thirty a twenty-six year buffer of time in which to command their womanhood.

You know what, you don’t have to hurry up and do stuff because you’re anxious about getting older. It’s not a foregone conclusion that you will naturally wilt away, dry up and disappear. You are not automatically unattractive. You don’t have to date assholes or get married to one just so you can be a mother. And for that matter, you don’t need to pay attention to expectations.

Before the conversion from jeans to skirts, it wasn’t a lack of self-awareness or care for fashion that saw me in jeans. Back in 2008, clothes were expensive and you had to be the size of a toothpick to get into a skirt here. Nowadays, fast fashion brands like Mango, Victoria’s Secret, ASOS and Zara bring you well cut, feminine looks for $10 each. Some ship overseas at a reasonable cost, and the fabrics are high quality. I bought five dresses at a Mango outlet in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, back in 2012, for under $50. Four years earlier, it would have been difficult to find one really cute dress for less than $90.

Ironically, though I do not spend vast sums on clothes, my wardrobe is bursting at the seams and I’m about to go minimalist again. It’s time to start cultivating a history of fashion on my own with these beautiful vintage looks I’ve been collecting. I want to enjoy wearing what I already have, over and over again. Hopefully, I’ll enjoy some fun times with someone I really like, and who appreciates my style.

Categories
men news women

Reeva, you were right. He’s got away with it.

Last weekend, the Telegraph published an article on the Oscar Pistorius verdict. The question was, “What if, instead, Reeva Steenkamp had shot Oscar Pistorius?” That is the wrong question. We should be asking “What if we’re too afraid to believe that a man at centre-stage would dare kill someone in front of us and brazenly demand that we let him get away with it?”

Narcissists are clever in a way we haven’t yet grasped. We have a tendency to ignore qualities that can’t be traded on the stock market, or packaged and mass-produced. Why aren’t we saying that Oscar Pistorius is a megalomaniac? Could it be we don’t want to call Oscar out for his evil ways because he’s physically challenged? We are undermining his capacity to develop into a mature adult if we fail do do so.

The worst thing you could do for someone with a God complex is give them a lot of disposable income, permission and unlimited access. I feel sorry for the journalists reporting the trial. Their stance at the outset, in 2013, was that Oscar’s an asshole. Near verdict time, they dialled back and said it is better for the justice system to decide Pistorius’ fate. To me, this is the collective hand washing of a situation that is their problem.

They nurtured this monster with conferences, interview questions, admiration, fantastic praise and high expectations. They’ve said, “Let’s sell him as the light of our generation. Let’s overlook his flaws as a person and focus on his achievements in sports.” It’s never that simple. Wasn’t it “sports” that afforded him a wealth of private and social engagements to enjoy? For example, he has access to SA’s most beautiful and visible personalities, and according to those who know him, he availed himself of their company as often as he pleased.

Oscar’s father left him as a boy. This does not mean he’s grown up to be a compassionate, humane man. He’s a pompous bastard who nearly shot a friend in the foot and then asked him to pretend it never happened. The shame he should have felt was most likely terror at the prospect of sleeping in a dirty jail cell surrounded by a cohort of his peers.

A few days ago, it was reported that cage fighter Nicolas Leaning had stabbed his pregnant ex girlfriend five times to kill her unborn child in order to prevent her doing a DNA test to confirm his paternity. I wish Reeva had been found pregnant because we would feel deep compassion for the unborn child. It would have been hard for Oscar to argue that he’d accidentally shot the mother of his unborn child. We would connect the dots fast. I do not believe her mother’s assertion that they hadn’t slept together. Is Oscar the kind of megalomaniac who would entertain the idea of a celibate coupling? If I had to venture a guess, I would say that she’s fulfilling her end of a deal: “If Oscar’s found not guilty of pre meditated murder, publicly deny they had a sexual relationship.”

How did he know the public would fall for his childish antics? It was as if we were waiting for him to sweat blood. (Symptoms of childish antics include perspiring, vomiting into a bucket, sobbing and squealing.) The child throws himself on the floor and thrashes around to distract us from what he’s actually done. You can’t discipline someone who’s already in extreme distress. “Calm down, Oscar,” they say. “Let’s attend to your needs.” No-one needs celebrity, much less a celebrity license to kill.

Ten months in jail don’t make sense. I feel bad for Reeva because she might have thought as she slipped away, “He’s going to get away with this.” Oscar’s had a full dress rehearsal on the biggest stage in the world. I do not want him to ever get out of jail. I’m scared he’ll kill another person. Goodness knows he’ll be better prepared for the fallout next time.

Categories
fiction women

Thus, a good deed is punished

Have you ever tried to do something nice, only to have the recipient of your consideration slap you in the face? Well, it happens to many of us all the time. Instead of saying “Thanks”, people question your integrity. Why do good deeds get punished? ArsTechnica has a probable explanation.

Some people, I’d concluded, cannot receive help. I had written the following fictional dialogue for the 2014 Bartleby Snopes 6th Annual Dialogue Only  Writing Contest. However, I don’t think they’ll read it, so instead of submitting it for rejection, I buried it. But today, I’m publishing it here. Good luck to all the contestants of the Bartleby Snopes Contest. The title is “Thus, a good deed is punished.”

Thus, a good deed is punished

Quince:
It’s too dark and spooky. Why aren’t there any windows in here?

South:
What are you saying? You already know why there are no windows on the ship.

Harvey:
Even a kindergartener knows the effects of cosmic radiation on the human body.

Quince:
I’m so excited. I don’t know if I can do drones later.

Harvey:
No-one here comes with hands on experience. It’s all theoretical.

South:
It’s kind of far to have hands on experience, don’t you think?

Quince:
What do you mean, “far”? Oh, okay…right.

South:
Is she always this oblivious to context?

Harvey:
Hmmm. Did you review the schematics for the robots and drones we’ll be operating today?

Quince:
What’s that?

South:
Did you use any of your ten days in physio to reread the manuals for any of the machines you’ll be operating?

Quince:
No… I didn’t look at that.

Harvey:
Them. Look at “them.”

South:
She’s talking really fast and seems agitated. Perhaps a bit of shock after decompression?

Harvey:
Have you got full medical clearance to work? Do you have memory loss?

South:
You might be dehydrated. Have you been taking a lot of fluids?

Quince:
Why, why? What do fluids have to do with that? Are you a medical doctor?

Captain:
Peeps, listen up, we deploy five two-ton transformer catchment tanks to Titan at oh five hundred hours. Remember your simulation training? All of that is utter shagging bullocks once we’re in the atmosphere…

Quince:
What?! I’m not going into the atmosphere.

South:
“Right,” said Fred.

Captain:
…so, use. Your. Head. Miss Quince, I would like to know why you’re shouting when I’m three feet away from you.

Quince:
They said we were using robots to go into the atmosphere.

South:
Miss Quince might be dehydrated.

Captain:
Miss Quince, did you rehydrate? Dehydration can cause disorientation.

Quince:
Yes, yes, yes. I don’t have any of that.

Captain:
Did you roll your eyes at me just now? Did she roll her eyes at me, Harvey?

Harvey:
I…

Captain:
Even then, you cannot have forgotten your basic training. You received 300 hours of simulator training so, don’t make pointless…

Quince:
No, it wasn’t 300 hours.

Captain:
…statements. Excuse me? It says that in your mission documents.

Quince:
Wha-what mission documents?

Captain:
I am talking about your curriculum vitae!

South:
The training requirement is at least 300 hours, which is in your …. I give up.

Harvey:
It was in your contract.

South:
Did you read your contract? Do you even know where you are right now?

Quince:
I know, I know.

Captain:
Fine. What did you mean by “minimum training”?

Quince:
I did a twenty hour video game course at Omni Signum Theme Park, and the drone operation thingy.

South:
You put a theme park gaming marathon on your resume as qualification for a mission to Saturn? This is better than I thought.

Captain:
Harvey?

Harvey:
Miss Quince told me she would complete the minimum training requirement when I hired her, and Professor Wong Ken …

Captain:
Nobel Prize for Physics, Board of Trustees Member Professor Wong Ken?

Harvey:
He signed off on her training before the  mission. I mean, she told me she was about to start her training under his supervision, but after she signed her contract, Miss Quince refused to communicate with me.

Captain:
What was she doing for Professor Wong Ken?

Quince:
I was…

Captain:
I’m talking to Harvey, Miss.

Harvey:
He said she was building his course for particle physics. So, when I asked the Professor to confirm that she had completed her training, he said that she had. As you know, the mission preparation was done in four different countries, so the oversight is disjointed.

Captain:
Harvey, you should have done your job more thoroughly. Liesel!

Lt. Liesel:
Yes, Ma’am.

Captain:
We have a stowaway on board. She might have mad cow.

Quince:
I don’t have mad cow.

Captain:
You misled a prominent member of this organisation about your training and preparation. As its primary trustee, I am inclined to file criminal charges. When you return to Earth, you will give back your one million euro salary and then go to prison.

Quince:
I didn’t say I didn’t have minimum training.

Captain:
Three hundred hours of simulator training are what you agreed to when you signed a contract with us. Twenty hours of video games at a theme park is not enough for a mission like this. You travelled a billion miles from Earth without the proper training. You endanger your life and the life of every person on this vessel if you do not know what you’re doing.

South:
She just asked about windows.

Captain:
Exactly what I mean. You edited a textbook on physics and you don’t know that the EMR coming off those rings would fuse the cone cells in your retina?

Harvey:
By the time you finished taking pictures, you would be completely blind. By the time you uploaded them to your blog, you’d have Stage III brain cancer.

Captain:
As Miss Harvey has demonstrated, you’re not only irresponsible, but also irretractably dumb.

Quince:
And what are your qualifications?

South:
Oh, boy.

Captain:
You do realise, you insolent slagbag tartamundo, that I’m in charge of this operation? My brain had a child and from it you collected one million euros and a  prestigious assignment. You should already know my credentials, since I am your boss, you ignorant insufferable buttsore hag.

Harvey:
Ma’am? Please.

Captain:
Liesel, if she looks at me sideways, or attempts to speak again, eject her cremated remains from the cargo bay. To the left, you slagging shart gas.

Lt. Liesel:
Come with me, Miss.

Captain:
Did you hear what she just asked me, Harvey? You had one task, and that was to find me a replacement for Dr. Xi Bei. Can you believe she stood there asking me for my credentials after saying she committed fraud?

Harvey:
I accept full responsibility for this. I offered her the job because I felt sorry for her. She was n a student visa in Spain and everything she earned went home to pay bills. She was sleeping in a bunk bed in a youth hostel and living on breakfast cereal to save money.

Captain:
This is not a homeless shelter, Harvey.

South:
She has a custom-made sports car and a couture wardrobe.

Harvey:
I was of the firm opinion that we should have a representative from…

Captain:
Affirmative action does not apply to my six trillion euro space exploration project. This project is based in the Republic of France. We are the first humans, and the first all-woman crew to arrive, alive and well in the far reaches of our solar system. We have to work at a much higher standard than this. Also, why does someone with training in  physics know so little about … physics?

South:
Ma’am.

Harvey:
I apologise.

Captain:
Ultimately, it’s my responsibility. However, I do not want to have to say that we did not do our due diligence with crew selection.

Harvey:
I have a way to fix this.

Captain:
Speak.

Harvey:
We place her in a cryogenic coma, monitoring her vitals closely. I will adjust the registry so that she will not have awakened from her coma, effectively    indicating that she was immobilised for the entire trip.

South:
What about her blog? She is babbling about being a pioneer.

Harvey:
We can erase those entries right now. The system is on a delay and we have a lot of electromagnetic distortion this close to the rings, so they’re still buffering  in the cloud. We probably won’t start transmitting data back to Earth until we leave Saturn’s orbit fourteen days from now. She’ll need eighteen months of rehabilitation after re-entry. By the time she recovers, the press will be  uninterested in a person who slept through a fourteen year round trip to Saturn. Also,  we should change her status to junior research fellow, here to collect and analyse data, which she is already qualified to do. The breach of contract should be  a civil suit and not a criminal one.

Captain:
Not bad, Harvey. Go “write” your wrongs.

Harvey:
Ma’am.

Captain:
Barande!

Barande:
Yes, Ma’am.

Captain:
We’re delaying the deployment of catchment tanks for forty-eight hours. Our log will say that one of our junior research fellows did not wake up from stasis and we’re putting her in cryostasis to reduce organ damage. Then, inform all robot and drone operators that starting at oh five hundred, there will be a  sixteen hour simulator test covering every single stinking minging part on every barfing machine we have on this rig. An eight-hour organic chemistry practical exam will follow immediately after that. Anyone who loses consciousness or passes with less than one hundred percent of the total marks will be  literally frozen out of the mission. I want the best of the best on this deployment, so everyone better buck up.

Barande:
Yes, Ma’am.

Captain:
Welcome to Titan, bitches.