Tag Archives: opinion

Breakfast

To win the peace you must first fight the war.

History confirms the above saying and we witness one or other form of it happening in day to day life but still I have a trouble believing it must be so. Unjustified… Injustice… Unjustification…. are the words that playing in my head. I don’t know if it affects me greatly because I can relate to this- in my life there is no such thing as easy gain. I have to fight with all my might for every inch of space, every ounce of respect, for freedom, for personal rights… for my very existence- or being a warrior is just a part of my genetic makeup. In any case it doesn’t sit right with me. I feel angry by just reading these words. I can associate it with everything that is happening around me- there is no donuts anymore in the nearby filling station or anywhere close to where I live. There is no decent coffee either when you want it. The least you can get is half a cup of lukewarm brew- around the world- global warming and all the consequences of it. The disappearance of all the things that have something to do with quality, morals and values. I can’t rant on and on but I will not (as if this post is not ranting enough) not this time- I just cant believe one has to fight in order to gain something that supposed to be a birthright, right? Like freedom and the right to exist and be treated accordingly regardless of which walk of life you came from or the colour of your skin or if you are beautiful or not, female or male or member of the third sex or belonged to the lower class of animal (which for me is humans) handicapped or having mental illness. All because of these laws created by man which resulted to prejudiced society of supposed to be educated people from civilized countries who cannot even exercise common decency between them. And I’m ranting early in the morning just because I am sick and can’t sleep since Sunday. What that makes me?

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Lights Out

I can’t find anything to write about these days. Since I’ve been back from a three week holiday I don’t put anything substantial on paper. Blame it on real life getting in the way (what a cliché) something I used to laugh about like all the things associated with getting old which I now suffering from. Blame it on the fact that they decided to shelve Daily Prompt and Photo Challenge. I can’t get over it. Yet. I (we) should have known when they suddenly decided to put a stop to ever useful lots of fun Blogging U. The platform where I used to put on thoughts is now dead and waiting to be buried. Not this, another one; my learning ground before I came here. A dating site in fact. I know, I know… I discovered it through my ex. I wanted to find out what he was up to and created a fake account. I found out one can blog there too and that’s how I introduced myself to blogging. I don’t say that this one will suffer the same fate because it seems to be thriving. Bussiness wise as far as I understand but of course I could be wrong. I’m concerned about the future of personal bloggers like me. Will there be still a niche for them (us) in the near future? I know about domains and such but I’m not convinced. You know what I mean. The bright side of all of these is I’m enjoying the real life or rather I decided I will practice not Carpe Diem But Carpe Omnia. It’s like suddenly I realized that it’s five to midnight and I have to hurry if I hope to get to the party. Let’s see coming Winter if I am still in the same mood. I have an inkling or rather to be on the safe side, I decided to go on holiday three times a year. Better than sitting on the front of the computer typing words that might or might not happen. Anyway, that’s it for now. Next time I will tell you about the time I was waiting for a bus in La Palma and saw something funny, painful and inspiring at the same time.

Till next time. 

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Invisible League

Like Alice plunging down the rabbit hole, I was suddenly not the fun girl at the party but the dotty auntie figure we humor for a moment before moving on. As older women we are no longer desirable, no longer perceived as anything but taking up space a younger person could put to better use in the job, in the relationship, in life. Age, I now realize, doesn’t creep up, it fells you with changes you didn’t see coming. And it happens at 50. You vanish, replaced by an old and forgettable woman.

This is an excerpt from an article written by Tracy Nesdoly for The Star (see the full article here) about At what age do some women begin to feel invisible? I came across this while looking for random things about age on the internet. One click and I was suddenly bombarded with page after page of written stories about women of a certain age who are invisible and no longer seen as important part of society. The titles are demeaning. Not only for us middle age women but for any woman young or old because whether we like it or not we will be in that position sooner or later. What do you think of: Dating: I’m the Invisible woman,  where the writer calling herself a mere plankton in the food chain of sexuality and the marketplace for relationships. A flimflam, a nuisance, an embarrassment of landfill. It hurts, doesn’t it?

In this post, ‘Invisible’ middle-aged women are fighting back English writer Helen Walmsley-Johnson talks about menopause, sexual, currency, dressing up for your age and hormones replacement. She recounted her personal experience with a group of young boys while walking through the park one day.

They made fun of her brisk walk, then began to crudely share their views on which of a group of passing schoolgirls they wanted to have sex with, clearly intending for her to hear. Tired of listening, Walmsley-Johnson asked them to move on — and to consider keeping their sexist remarks to themselves. They reacted with hissing, noxious anger, calling her a “dried up old c***” and suggesting that if a “real woman” were to talk to them about sexism, they might listen.

I have yet to experience this sort of things. Do I have to consider myself lucky?

I have always been younger looking than my real age (thanks to my ethnicity and good genes- the only good I inherited from my ancestors) not only by few years but by more than a decade, let’s say at least fifteen. When I’ve met my current husband I was thirty-seven but he thought I was twenty-two and so were his family and friends. When I was twenty-five they don’t allow me in the discos because the guards thought my ID was fake. I was once banned from accompanying my daughter to sexual orientation class because they thought I was her sister and only parents were allowed. And so the years go on like that, me being used to getting attention (lots of it actually) I don’t care for and wishing I’m invisible.

No, I don’t wear sexy or provocative clothes, figure-hugging attires will not find a home in my closet, I don’t wear makeup, high heels and go to the hair salon only once a year. In short, I am a low maintenance girl. Attracting attention to myself (any kind of attention) was and will never be my purpose in life and it irritates me enormously getting more than I think I deserved. And I thought it will go on like that till the end. Never cross in my naive brain that it will change someday.

The first sign happened when I turned forty- three. I was in the pharmacy and the guy behind the counter referred to me as ‘Madame’ instead of ‘Mademoiselle.’  I was taken aback. Shocked in fact. It hurts. I was always been ‘Mademoiselle’ instead of ‘Madame’ and suddenly it’s the other way around. I thought then that ‘now the process had begun.’

When almost a decade had passed with nothing or little changes to my status as a desirable woman I again thought it will never happen, until this year.

I am still looking at least fifteen years younger than my real age but I’m fifty-one, and forty isn’t twenty. And gradually I noticed subtle changes. The guys who are looking at me now are not the sixteen years old anymore. The twenty-something still glance my way but soon averted their eyes when they realized in which age category I truly belonged. Their gaze never lingers anymore or check more than once, they bestow me an interested glance which quickly fades and then move on without looking back. I can walk now into a restaurant without commanding attention. There was a time that wherever I walk men (women too but with hostility) stop whatever they were doing and look, and keep looking till I was out of sight. I have out of this world experience related to my sensuality and it’s strong effect on men you wouldn’t believe if I tell so I would spare you the details. I was by no means a ‘beauty’ or ‘femme fatale,’ the truth is I never know why I had this such effect on men, my ex once described me as magic but whatever it is, it is soon disappearing.

And with it comes the realization that I don’t want to be invisible. Not only as a woman but as a human being. I’m getting old yes, I’m losing my magic, probably so, but I still have feelings. Feelings never change. Who wants to be irrelevant?

Deborra-Lee-Furness, in her interview with Australian Women’s Weekly magazine, talked about jaw-droppingly insulting titles of stories written about her (and others who are in the same situation) being married to uber hunk Mr. Hugh Jackman who happened to be thirteen years her junior. She said: “People think a 58-year-old woman doesn’t deserve a big-shot, funny, handsome, movie star husband at all. It’s still acceptable for there to be a million internet articles about being a supposedly unattractive middle-aged man and be able to “punch above your weight” and bag yourself a younger, stunning partner.”

What could I say? I am married to someone 11 years my junior. Do I have to be scared? He’s getting old too I know but everyone is aware that getting old is not the same for men and women. I don’t have to list the differences because it is a common knowledge. Damn the double standard.

Marina Benjamin, author of The Middlepause found an essay from a 1903 issue of Cosmopolitan magazine in which a woman of 50′ used to be perceived as a person of achievement and grace and was “characterized as having ‘distinctive charm and beauty, ripe views, disciplined intellect, and cultivated manifold gifts’.” That is so clearly not the case nowadays, and for the woman approaching this milestone age, there is a good reason to feel anxious, or sad, or pissed off. She said:

“Fifty feels tarnished as an old coin, and worn — worn down and worn out,” she says. “There is nothing glamorous about 50 that I can see, not even in some retro way.” 

How about you? Do you have Invisible Woman Syndrome?

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Gratitude

Have you ever thanked all 206 members of your skeletal system for holding you up? You should, because no matter how difficult things might yet become, they won’t openly betray you.

Sometimes they only forget that they are holding human flesh within their homes, it’s why you fall.

But you rise again don’t you?

Have you thanked both your lungs for loving you all your life? You should for every single moment. Because they love you so much; so much so that they refuse to give up on you even on days when all you want is to cease from breathing altogether.

Have you kissed all of your ten fingers yesterday and today, both? You should, because they will say and keep on saying the things your mouth would never be brave enough to say.

Have you thanked the other members of your internal organs for this moment yet? You should, because thanks to them, you are ALIVE.

Talk to your body when no one wishes to address you, your body listens and it does love you.

Aside from your body, you should thank God above all else too —because if it weren’t for Him, you wouldn’t have a body.

You wouldn’t have a body left to thank and to love and live in.

— Faceless word that I am

“Gratitude” by CJessica Chua

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Today’s Thoughts

Maybe it doesn’t need to be anxiety. Or paranoia. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a result of a difficult childhood or bullied adolescence. Perhaps, it isn’t necessary to meet up with the requirements listed in a fancy Wikipedia article about heavy mental disorders for it to hurt. Each seemingly vague collision with this world’s cruelty can leave you gasping for air, clinging at the stitches. Each lover that abandoned us, each friend who turned their back in a crucial moment … it piles up. Waiting for the timer to count down the seconds. And when it hits, the bones in your body will be screaming to surface, burning in an infinite parallel universe. Immeasurable will be the crushing weight of the piling thoughts, echoing in that sad head of yours. But do not ever, under any condition, permit somebody to restrain your right to feel pain, only because they have suffered far more severe injury. Do not let anybody count your scars and tell you to “get over it”, after comparing their number to yours. It is not a contest. It is not a race on who can get fucked up beyond repair first. Respect others’ misfortunes and approach them in a kind manner. But expect the same in return and do not settle for any less.
If it is human to ache, it should be human to sympathize. Why have we let the course of our civilization reach this point? Why did we permit such constant comparisons? Not only do we now compete for having the best body or hottest outfit, but for who exhausted their hearts first, who gave up the fastest and who can romanticize depression to the fullest. We crossed the boundaries long ago and eloped in a twisted, sick environment. In a place, where scorning is ranked higher than lending a helping hand. Where sorrow is excessively inflicted. So forget them. Turn your back to each hurled remark. Never give a care about how they criticize the way you choose to cope. It depends on you and you alone. Be that hero you dreamed about last night or that inspiring person you overheard in the subway. That’s all it really is, life, I mean – learning how to cope and move on.

#ReaderSubmission by Kiki

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Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

It’s not puberty that hits you. It’s your deliberate choice to cope with society’s standards of beauty. You shed fats, you wore makeup, you fit in. Truth be told, if you aren’t beautiful to them, you’ll surely won’t be treated right.

I discovered lipstick when I was 48 and I started wearing them only two years ago. I don’t care what society wants and expects, I have my own rules. It doesn’t make my life any easier but I don’t go with the flow and life is too short to worry myself about things that don’t concern me really. I’ve been treated unfairly because of the color of my skin and been accused of many things I didn’t do because I refuse to be part of the social herd but what judgmental, simple-minded prejudiced people think say and do tell more about their narrow one-track mindedness and characters than about me. Eat their hearts out for all I care. Shakespeare once said:

My beauty, though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
Not utter’d by base sale of chapmen’s tongues

That means beauty, like supreme dominion
Is but supported by opinion and exists merely in the mind which contemplates them.

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Skewed

Skew – make biased or distorted in a way that is regarded as inaccurate, unfair, or misleading.

Because of who I am and my unconventional habits (in a world where men are allowed to do whatever they want and be admired and praised for their shenanigans and double standard is regarded as the norm) I’ve been accused and labeled everything I am not. My reputation quickly went down the drain and never come back. Misunderstood will be a huge part of my epitaph when the time comes. Does it bother me? It never used to.  But looking back, given a chance, probably I would do a thing or two differently, for my peace of mind. But I will never alter what had happened because I don’t want to miss out on all the fun, just adjust some things a little bit, give it a different approach without losing myself completely in the process. But yeah, what’s done is done all water under the bridge now. If only people have no long memory and limited cranial capacity when it comes to understanding others due to the fact that most will feel good if they think they are better than another even if it’s only in their own twisted imagination. Stood tall and stood proud standing on someone else’s back. What else is new? Anyway, I have lived a colorful life that’s for sure and with it comes like it or not colorful descriptions and tales (which is laughable at times) even if they are not exactly accurate they are certainly graphic. Sayonara for now and see you when I see you. 

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Rebel

Oh, that’s me. 

But then again not. I’m not really a rebel, I just don’t follow the herd. I rather march to the beat of my own drum. The sound is sweeter. 

No, seriously I am who I am and that’s it. 

Some might say I’m an individualist, stubborn, solitary, hard-headed, idealist, pessimist. The truth is I’m a freedom loving honest realist, crusading for the truth, equality, and justice who likes to see a more peaceful harmonious world populated with tolerant people who have respect for nature and each other. That’s all. 

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Observe

That’s what I do (automatically) observe people and surroundings. I can assess situations in mere seconds and draw my conclusion from what’s before me. I see the big picture in one glance and miss nothing. Being an Empath I see more and feel more, therefore, learn more. Words mean nothing to me. It’s the body language and tone of voice I focus on to determine with whom I am dealing with. That and my instinct which up to now never fails me yet.

Even in a relaxed environment and situation I never stop observing and absorbing scenes. People fascinate me in a lot of ways, their relationships with others and their surroundings, and the manners they choose to express their personal tastes and preferences revealing their true characters and what’s going on under the surface. But most of all I admire their beauties from an artist’s point of view. The tilt of the chin, the way the eyes look in certain lights, the cheekbones, and the facial expressions, the colors of the hair when the sun rays hit the strands, freckles over the nose bridge, things like that. What beautiful for me may not be so for the others since beauty is subjective. Let’s put it this way: If a subject caught my attention, that says enough. If it keeps me interested for more than five minutes that’s already a record, but if I want to capture their image through photography or on canvas, that means I’m impressed.

I can’t say this enough: I am not particularly fond of people on a more personal basis but they are my never-ending source of inspiration for my crafts. Them and life itself. 

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Bestow

I would like to receive the same amount of respect (which by the way on the top of my list) I bestow on others. Forget love, forget romance, forget friendship, courtship or any relationship because, without respect, there will be no chance for any form of lasting connection, alliance, association, between two people. Mutual respect is a solid foundation of any strong correlation. Passion goes away, love can disappear and romance seldom lasts but as long as there is respect, there is hope for a strong bond that can stand the test of time. Leo Tolstoy once said: “Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love should be.” BS! How could there be love if there is no respect? Could you love someone you don’t respect? I don’t think so. So, I’d say respect others and their beliefs, their personal tastes and their opinions and most of all respect yourself because only by that will you compel others to respect you.

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Froth

The Law Of Attraction is a pseudoscientific metaphor extracted from quantum mechanics and legitimized, not based on inferences but pseudo-empiricism. The success of these mediocrities is contingent on two factors: the appeal to authority and the compartmentalization of personal biases. Trailing the evidence and dealing with the consequences regardless of personal biases, tends to protrude objective reasoning rather than subjective appeal to personal desires. Conversely enough, the former has propagated generations of rapacious gullibility. A credulity riveted on emotions and viable nothing more than prejudice of ideology.

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Daily Prompt: Froth