Coming back all bloody

It has been quite a bloody while since I wrote to everyone.

 

Well so far, I got myself a job. 2 weeks  +and going good, I like it here, the crowd is nice and the work, somewhat okay in my realm of shit-to-okay grading.

So far this seems good and I’ve started writing again, looks like im sort of back on track. So I don’t have much time but I want to make a repost of a note I did on my facebook titled itches #2 : On women

Also yeah Usual Disclaimer : My opinion, If you dont like, does it look like I care?

"I don’t want to sound like a feminist"

I hate that line, does it make you afraid to voice your opinion without the jeering and ridicule.

Usually I stay quiet about things, but sometimes it gets too far up there.

It’s strange that women nowadays have to be judged by the way they walk, they talk, the things they enjoy doing, the clothes they wear and the people they choose to associate with.

One thing I came across personally, and it annoys the stuffing out of me, "Oh so you are a mechanical engineer? Why did you choose that field? Isn’t it hard? " 

Buster! I chose it because I wanted to, I do not need to justify my choices to anyone other that myself. 

It’s not only for me, no matter what a woman does, there are so many out there to question and doubt for you...

Oh a civil engineer, are you sure? You will be on the field a lot? Oh a lawyer? What criminal law, won’t you be with all those murderers and rapists? Oh a doctor? Won’t you have little time for your family? Oh a political activist? That is a not a suitable field, isn’t it dangerous and troublesome? Oh a fashion designer? Are there even jobs here?

Well listen for a moment, read this words and realize

The WOMAN, she is not your ideal, she is HERS

SHE is not the damsel in distress; SHE is the DRAGONESS with her claws and breathes of fire

SHE is not the flower in the garden; SHE is the tallest tree with the DEEPEST roots

The WOMAN is not a poem in a book, a verse in a song; SHE is a SAGA and a BALLAD

This is not a note for the men, this one is for the ladies, realize that you are so much more than "their" doubts and their hopes for you.

YOU are not a marriage prospect, you are not a victim, and you are not responsible for the lusts of the ones that want to harm you or disrespect.

You are a woman, a luscious embodiment of life, you can love everyone and all, you are the reason the world exists, and you make more of us and more of them.

You are YOU. 

Whether you decide to work in a shop, a skyscraper, a cubicle, and Operation Theater or a site. Whether you wear long clothes or short. Whether you chose to have a family or work harder.

It is your choice. 

Our society has shamed women; they try to make us ashamed of being women. 

Fight. For you

Understand. For your future

Educate. For the ignorance

Found on tumblr :

Imagine this: Instead of waiting in her tower, Rapunzel slices off her long, golden hair with a carving knife, and then uses it to climb down to freedom.

Just as she’s about to take the poison apple, Snow White sees the familiar wicked glow in the old lady’s eyes, and slashes the evil queen’s throat with a pair of sewing scissors. Cinderella refuses everything but the glass slippers from her fairy godmother, crushes her stepmother’s windpipe under her heel, and the Prince falls madly in love with the mysterious girl who dons rags and blood-stained slippers.

Imagine this: Persephone goes adventuring with weapons hidden under her dress. Persephone climbs into the gaping chasm. Or, Persephone uses her hands to carve a hole down to hell. In none of these versions is Persephone’s body violated unless she asks Hades to hold her down with his horse-whips. Not once does she hold out on eating the pomegranate, instead biting into it eagerly and relishing the juice running down her chin, staining it red.In some of the stories, Hades never appears and Persephone rules the underworld with a crown of her own making.In all of them, it is widely known that the name Persephone means Bringer of Destruction.

Imagine this:Red Riding Hood marches from her grandmother’s house with a bloody wolf pelt. Medusa rights the wrongs that have been done to her.Eurydice breaks every muscle in her arms climbing out of the land of the dead.

Imagine this:Girls are allowed to think dark thoughts, and be dark things.

Imagine this:Instead of the dragon, it’s the princess with claws and fiery breathwho smashes her way from the confines of her castle and swallows men whole.

"

— 'Reinventing Rescuing,'

till next time

 

M

Self impose Hiatus and control

 

So the last few weeks, I put most everything on hold, movies, anime (well except SnK), new music, books (YES, IT IS TORTURE). With the ultimate goal of studying my bottom off, so far, its working to a certain extent. So I won’t put up a long post today, you can expect a long one next week or so, I am still completing my Gagra story, for anyone who even reads it, you can find the chapters so far on the right side of the blog.

And this is September so I have a lot of things planned, I just hope it does stay on plan, free time ahead and after this Fridays exam and a viva on Sunday I am home free from any studies, WOOHOO. And I can start job hunting, while the current post is okay, I need something with a bit more action and actual work, September will have me baking (oh sweet sugar cakes the things I could make), hanging out with friends, watching a back log of anime and tv series, art-ing, sleeping, and generally sitting in front of my laptop with a cup of tea  :3, I am also going to the Logos Book-ship , yes book ship, it’s a ship with books. Haven't decided when though, and the book fair.

So much to do so little time.

So I leave you with this, Happy september and may the odds be ever in your favour.

M

P.S. Have some art I scribbled yesterday

A post about me.

As I stated before, I find myself bored yet again, so I am blogging, I feel a headache creeping in, the point behind my eyes ache and my shoulders feel knotted, I feel strange about putting up my problems here but, then again, this is my blog and for once people, just listen.

Sometimes I feel that even when I am in a crowd people tend to not hear my words, literally, either they ignore me or just forget my presence. I’ve long grown used to it; maybe there is an air of something about me. The same something that makes people talk to me and tell me things they wouldn’t usually tell, and I listen and keep those whispered, laughing spoken, tearfully confessed tidbits to myself, because they are precious, should they be colorful pieces of cloth, I’d store them in tiny glass bottles and hide them in a treasure chest, because the human condition fascinates me, it is an enigma, the beautiful dark blots, the glaring whites and the multitude of grays in between. I would gladly be your scribe and your chronicler, let me embrace your mind and your memories, what these ears hear or eyes see, this mouth will not speak, nor this hand write.

For all those beautiful people who have confided in me, thank you, you are all precious to be, thank you for giving me your voices.

But this comes at a price, there are so many things that I yearn to speak to tell, sometimes even I wish that there is someone to hear my words when I fall into those bouts of sudden depression, no one really knows about them except once person, one really close friend who I managed to confess to. I am eternally grateful for her; she is one of those people whose existence saves mine. For she is the only one my tongue will loosen, not my parents nor my siblings.

For those who know me close and are my good friends, even those who just hang around me would never know me being depressed to such an extent. I’m always laughing and smiling, and making awkward jokes, even when I want to cry or just fall to the floor and hug my knees, I might get angry occasionally, maybe pissed off sometimes, sometimes nervous and confused, but no one ever sees when I am depressed, I’m too good at hiding it, but there is a book that I keep, one that I write in when I feel like the dirt beneath my feet. It is filled with a story of a man, trapped in a dark room, starving and drowning in the darkness. The story starts and stops over the various periods of depression, I feel like I should burn it sometimes, it is a memoir to the darkest parts of my life. But then again I keep it, it is the truest part of me that I can think of, and I do not want to lose that.

I can say without any hesitation, I am like a leaf in the wind sometimes, yet sometimes this wind is a gale that threatens to tear me apart. Responsibilities and Expectations, I want to groan and turn away but they catch me, responsibilities hold me to a path made for me, studies and jobs, where I am today, and expectations hold me to my word, expected to hold on when the path is not what you want, expected to get good grades and become the provider. Expected to smile and get on with my life when I want to scream and cry. I am expected to hold back my tears and swallow my cries of pain and just move on.

It just gets hard to move on, but the thing is I do, people rely on me to not break to hold their hand and to high five them and to tell them it gets better,  so I do, because I genuinely care about you, and I know the importance of have someone to be your soundboard, this is why no matter how much I am sick inside, and tired, I will always be there to answer your calls, to give you the pat on your back and the hug. It is the reason why I hand make each birthday card, anniversary card and just strange cards for my friends and family, because to me you are all special and you deserve to be differentiated from the masses on that one day, you are special to yourself.

I am not asking for special treatment, I am not asking for anything, for once, just listen and keep my secret, bottle it up and hide it away in some secret place.

This is my confession, this is my story.

Thank you, dear reader.

For listening or rather reading my words.

Forever yours,

The melancholic M