After not writing for so long, coming here is wierd. But nobody's calling me sane. I have two assignments due tomorrow, one I'm really excited about (literature) and the other not so much (creative arts). Time and time again, I question myself; if my interests clearly stood out (even now, it's right here under my nose) why on earth did I bother with psychology? I almost hate looking back, but these thoughts tend to come to you. Nevermind that, it's all water under the bridge now. I may or may not decide to finish the psych degree, but all I know is that I can't see myself as any kind of counsellor. Maybe I could a few years ago, and maybe I did. But not anymore.
Why am I here when I have two assignments due tomorrow? Just takin' a little break is all. Today's been a wierd day. I've been in a sort of limbo-like daze. I attributed it to lack of sleep and perhaps that explains why I'm even more paranoid than usual but ack, I want the weekend to arrive. I shall do my best with these asses and get sleep. SLEEP. How thee tempts me so.
Today was my last tutorial for two classes, one I couldn't get up for and the other was close-to-unbearable. I suppose I'm still shy, especially around girls and I don't know what to say to them. Plus most of them look at me in an odd way, which has been happening to me since kindergarten. Hey I smile at you, you can smile back y'know? It's so strange how girls can be so ungracious to other girls. Aren't we suppose to be on the same team?
I was just telling Babes a few weeks ago that back when I didn't have a car and had to travel by LRT, I had decided to carry out a simple social experiment. I decided that I would smile at everyone who caught my eye. It was more fun than I thought it would be, because most people smiled back. I concluded from this experiment that the people who smile back the most are elderly people (and it was really heartwarming too...awwww). Sadly, the people who smiled back the least were girls who were around my age. They just refused to smile back. Some would stare back blankly, some glared and some just looked away. It was really interesting to me but also pretty disappointing. Why wouldn't they smile back? What is this catty competition that goes on between people of the same sex (in fact, if I had to say, I don't think this happens more frequently with boys, I think it's more applicable for girls). However, I don't have any solid facts to back that up, it is just anecdotal experience.
Oh well, look how the brain goes into overdrive. I need to stop thinking and start writing. Goodnight folks, more to come.
p/s- I had a wonderful, awesome, thrilling experience last night watching football with some of my friends here and my Dear. I somehow will never forget this experience and I'll decide if I want to talk about it or not. It is sacred to me in a way. I may not be completely in love with football (yet) but I fell in love all over again with the person I spend all my days with. I can't explain it in a coherent manner but something about last night was simply magical to me.
Ok, off I go I DO need sleep.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Fragmented thoughts: Part Two
I had planned to give you a detailed analysis about the book I mentioned in the previous post but maybe a preview would be good, just so you can decide if you want to read it.
In the quiet of the twilight, disturbing thoughts come to me. I participated in a discussion about catcalling and found out that some women take these things as a compliment. How, may I ask, is that possible? Are we so insecure and worried about our looks that a random stranger who whistles/calls out something lewd at us can make us feel good about ourselves? What is happening here?
Society makes a big deal out of appearances, especially for young women. Apparently, to lead a full and satisfying life, you have to look good, all the time. If you want people to like you, you have to look good. If you want a great job, you have to look good. Hell,if you're a girl and if you want people to look at your Facebook profile and pictures, you have to look good. Mind you, I didn't explain what 'looking good' is. Looking good, in this day and age means wearing "something" (but it doesn't have to cover much of your body, take note)- usually comprising of material with strings everywhere, and just a belt for your bottom half ('belt' refers to the things that pass for skirts these days, I quote Levy, 2005). To add appeal to your pictures, you usually have to wear an indecent amount of make up on your face (this is usually best accomplished if you own a black pencil eyeliner and proceed to smear it all around your eyes). For the finale, and for people to gawk openly at you; you have to attempt to give a seductive smile or pose in the pictures that you upload; in fact, it's a plus if you're slightly inebriated with alcohol or any other form of drug(s) and/or making a pass at your girlfriend(s). Hey, the real winners are the ones who take off their tops or have their limbs attached to another girl. That's to whom the awards go to, by the way, in case you're interested. If you manage to have some sort of physical contact other than touching (i.e. kissing, groping etc) with another girl, then (*drum roll please) you manage to get into the Hall of Shame. Excuse me, I meant Hall of Fame. For there is no such thing as shame anymore.
What I want to know is- who told us that this is acceptable? The television, the media? Cosmo? If so, I want to say that they're all wrong. Yet, how can I say that when anyone can see that the majority of young women these days are buying into this ideology? Day by day, I feel that any progress made by the fiery feminists of the 1960's slowly fade away. Some girls think they're overcoming the patriarchy by doing it this way. In reality, it's far from that. Apparently, it's liberating to dress and act this way. I need somebody to enlighten me, because wearing that much of make up, as far as I know, is uncomfortable, wearing close-to-nothing can be insane around here because of the weather and the high heels don't help either.
I don't look good all the time, I'll tell you that. But I'm having a fantastic life. But when I see what I'm forced to see everyday, around me- in university, on the streets, on the television and on the Internet, I am saddened. I was reading a blog yesterday and the girl wrote: feminists are so caught up with the minor issues (she was referring to a comment made by a feminist about a television show called the Tudors, if I'm not mistaken) and they fail to see the bigger picture. I heartily disagree. This is no minor issue. It's happening everywhere, whether you believe it or not. If we let it, this will become the only picture. But, day by day, I get a sour taste in my mouth and wish to close my eyes to reality.
Day by day, it gets worse.
p/s- did you know that the Indian Cricket teams playing for the IPL (Indian Premier League) hired cheerleaders from America to cheer for their games? Guess what they wear? Yep, you got it right. (IMO, they're skirts get shorter and shorter everyday and I thought I was just being paranoid but when I looked closely one day, the skirts disappeared only to be replaced by boy-shorts. I don't know which one's worse).
In the quiet of the twilight, disturbing thoughts come to me. I participated in a discussion about catcalling and found out that some women take these things as a compliment. How, may I ask, is that possible? Are we so insecure and worried about our looks that a random stranger who whistles/calls out something lewd at us can make us feel good about ourselves? What is happening here?
Society makes a big deal out of appearances, especially for young women. Apparently, to lead a full and satisfying life, you have to look good, all the time. If you want people to like you, you have to look good. If you want a great job, you have to look good. Hell,if you're a girl and if you want people to look at your Facebook profile and pictures, you have to look good. Mind you, I didn't explain what 'looking good' is. Looking good, in this day and age means wearing "something" (but it doesn't have to cover much of your body, take note)- usually comprising of material with strings everywhere, and just a belt for your bottom half ('belt' refers to the things that pass for skirts these days, I quote Levy, 2005). To add appeal to your pictures, you usually have to wear an indecent amount of make up on your face (this is usually best accomplished if you own a black pencil eyeliner and proceed to smear it all around your eyes). For the finale, and for people to gawk openly at you; you have to attempt to give a seductive smile or pose in the pictures that you upload; in fact, it's a plus if you're slightly inebriated with alcohol or any other form of drug(s) and/or making a pass at your girlfriend(s). Hey, the real winners are the ones who take off their tops or have their limbs attached to another girl. That's to whom the awards go to, by the way, in case you're interested. If you manage to have some sort of physical contact other than touching (i.e. kissing, groping etc) with another girl, then (*drum roll please) you manage to get into the Hall of Shame. Excuse me, I meant Hall of Fame. For there is no such thing as shame anymore.
What I want to know is- who told us that this is acceptable? The television, the media? Cosmo? If so, I want to say that they're all wrong. Yet, how can I say that when anyone can see that the majority of young women these days are buying into this ideology? Day by day, I feel that any progress made by the fiery feminists of the 1960's slowly fade away. Some girls think they're overcoming the patriarchy by doing it this way. In reality, it's far from that. Apparently, it's liberating to dress and act this way. I need somebody to enlighten me, because wearing that much of make up, as far as I know, is uncomfortable, wearing close-to-nothing can be insane around here because of the weather and the high heels don't help either.
I don't look good all the time, I'll tell you that. But I'm having a fantastic life. But when I see what I'm forced to see everyday, around me- in university, on the streets, on the television and on the Internet, I am saddened. I was reading a blog yesterday and the girl wrote: feminists are so caught up with the minor issues (she was referring to a comment made by a feminist about a television show called the Tudors, if I'm not mistaken) and they fail to see the bigger picture. I heartily disagree. This is no minor issue. It's happening everywhere, whether you believe it or not. If we let it, this will become the only picture. But, day by day, I get a sour taste in my mouth and wish to close my eyes to reality.
Day by day, it gets worse.
p/s- did you know that the Indian Cricket teams playing for the IPL (Indian Premier League) hired cheerleaders from America to cheer for their games? Guess what they wear? Yep, you got it right. (IMO, they're skirts get shorter and shorter everyday and I thought I was just being paranoid but when I looked closely one day, the skirts disappeared only to be replaced by boy-shorts. I don't know which one's worse).
Fragmented thoughts
I've recently managed to pass up three challenging assignments and have four more to finish. I'm enjoying the creative process immensely but at the same time I am craving a break. It's a wierd combination.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before but I read this book last year, around September or October and it blew my mind. I recently re-read it and I think it's worth mentioning here: Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture by Ariel Levy (2005). Published by Pocket Books in London. Ahm, I suddenly adore referencing because I've been doing loads of that recently. Teehee. I shall discuss this book further when I'm finished with everything.
Time is fleeting and so brief. Somehow, it'll be 11pm before I know it and I'll be looking forward to drinking coffee on my front step in the morning with Babes before class. Sometimes I think that's my favourite time of the day, before everything begins and because that's when the sun comes out, in her strongest moment, overpowering the tiny pale moon that just a few hours ago, was the only source of light. It get's dark here at 6 o' clock in the evening these days and if I'm inclined to believe everything I hear, then it'll be getting dark earlier as the days pass by.
I had a lovely conversation just a few minutes ago. One of my friends is attempting to quit smoking and has been semi-successful (which we shall applaud to, semi or not, it is still a small step to a daunting task). As me and my other half stole a few precious moments alone in the cold midnight, he crept up behind us and stood three feet away as we inhaled and exhaled plumes of smoke. He stood there and it puzzled me. I wasn't aware that he was planning on doing just exactly that; standing there. As I watched him, my puzzlement turned to amusement as I realized that he had come to inhale our leftovers. I asked him how he was doing with quitting. He revealed then, that he only had one cigarette since the Saturday that had passed. I was impressed. After awhile, perhaps feeling the need to explain himself, he said that it was not that he couldn't live without it; it was just that he was craving it from time to time. I mused over this for awhile, then commented:
"Doesn't that just mean that you can't live without it?"
"No, it just means that I want it," he answered.
A sudden thought came then.
"So, it means that it is your infatuation, but, not your true love."
"Exactly."
That is precisely what it was, and what it is. It is an adolescent infatuation with something wild and dangerous. You can liken it to having a crush on a celebrity (we remember those days, don't we?). We are attracted to these sticks the same way a fourteen-year-old boy was attracted to Pamela Anderson. However, after a certain number of years, the phase dies off and we are left with little, or no feelings of it.Can the same be said for our infatuation? Will it eventually die off without any effort on our parts? I think not, even if I would rather lie to myself. With celebrity infatuation, it can be explained away by fluctuation of hormones, especially during puberty, thus, when our systems are more or less stabilized, we rarely get such strong and intense feelings after that. With this infatuation, there is no fluctuation regarding biology. If we let it, and if adolescents continue with their infatuation, it grows into obsession. If I have to be brutally honest, there is no way in hell do I want to be obsessed with nicotine.
What is my point? I want to say that I have cut down significantly, but that is no solution. It is a small step in my viewpoint but I am sadly biased. I suppose my point is, that I never saw it in this way until today, and I just wanted to share my a-ha moment with you. And yes, even if I do promise to put an end to it, would you believe me? At times, I have trouble believing it myself. But I try. No, because as Yoda once said: "Do or do not, there is no try." So I shall do.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before but I read this book last year, around September or October and it blew my mind. I recently re-read it and I think it's worth mentioning here: Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture by Ariel Levy (2005). Published by Pocket Books in London. Ahm, I suddenly adore referencing because I've been doing loads of that recently. Teehee. I shall discuss this book further when I'm finished with everything.
Time is fleeting and so brief. Somehow, it'll be 11pm before I know it and I'll be looking forward to drinking coffee on my front step in the morning with Babes before class. Sometimes I think that's my favourite time of the day, before everything begins and because that's when the sun comes out, in her strongest moment, overpowering the tiny pale moon that just a few hours ago, was the only source of light. It get's dark here at 6 o' clock in the evening these days and if I'm inclined to believe everything I hear, then it'll be getting dark earlier as the days pass by.
I had a lovely conversation just a few minutes ago. One of my friends is attempting to quit smoking and has been semi-successful (which we shall applaud to, semi or not, it is still a small step to a daunting task). As me and my other half stole a few precious moments alone in the cold midnight, he crept up behind us and stood three feet away as we inhaled and exhaled plumes of smoke. He stood there and it puzzled me. I wasn't aware that he was planning on doing just exactly that; standing there. As I watched him, my puzzlement turned to amusement as I realized that he had come to inhale our leftovers. I asked him how he was doing with quitting. He revealed then, that he only had one cigarette since the Saturday that had passed. I was impressed. After awhile, perhaps feeling the need to explain himself, he said that it was not that he couldn't live without it; it was just that he was craving it from time to time. I mused over this for awhile, then commented:
"Doesn't that just mean that you can't live without it?"
"No, it just means that I want it," he answered.
A sudden thought came then.
"So, it means that it is your infatuation, but, not your true love."
"Exactly."
That is precisely what it was, and what it is. It is an adolescent infatuation with something wild and dangerous. You can liken it to having a crush on a celebrity (we remember those days, don't we?). We are attracted to these sticks the same way a fourteen-year-old boy was attracted to Pamela Anderson. However, after a certain number of years, the phase dies off and we are left with little, or no feelings of it.Can the same be said for our infatuation? Will it eventually die off without any effort on our parts? I think not, even if I would rather lie to myself. With celebrity infatuation, it can be explained away by fluctuation of hormones, especially during puberty, thus, when our systems are more or less stabilized, we rarely get such strong and intense feelings after that. With this infatuation, there is no fluctuation regarding biology. If we let it, and if adolescents continue with their infatuation, it grows into obsession. If I have to be brutally honest, there is no way in hell do I want to be obsessed with nicotine.
What is my point? I want to say that I have cut down significantly, but that is no solution. It is a small step in my viewpoint but I am sadly biased. I suppose my point is, that I never saw it in this way until today, and I just wanted to share my a-ha moment with you. And yes, even if I do promise to put an end to it, would you believe me? At times, I have trouble believing it myself. But I try. No, because as Yoda once said: "Do or do not, there is no try." So I shall do.
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