Friday the 13th. The day the City of Love became the City of Sorrow. Fear. Pain. And terror.
Its saddening, whats happening in the world today, isn’t it? Hate is breeding more hate, left, right and centre. Senseless tragedies, atrocities, and meaningless killings the world over, every single day – and now this.
Reading through the hundreds of posts in my newsfeed, it appears the co-ordinated attacks in Paris to have been linked to none other than Islamic extremists.
When is this madness going to stop? Who the hell do these people think they are, going around shooting and bombing in the name of ‘Allah.’ Causing meaningless death and destruction, and inspiring fear in the lives of normal, everyday citizens, who are just going about their daily lives.
It is pure mind-boggling, trying to figure out what makes these extremists tick. Why do these guys perform unfathomable acts like this? Why not just get together with the powers that be, and talk over coffee rather than going through all that meaningless trouble, time, expense, planning etc – just to be heard.
It is insanity, that these extremists believe they are acting for a great cause. At the end of the day, they are instilling more hate and fear in the world, and at an extremely high level. The devils work. That’s all there is to it. ALL. They are trying to spread a message, but the only message that’s coming through, loud and clear, is an ugly message of hate.
What a bunch of misguided, monstrous killers! They are no better off than a Government they proclaim to be the cause of all things wrong in this world. Sending off innocent men to fight and die in a pointless war is no different than sending off men, with strapped on vests, into an unaware town or city. It’s the same thing, same agenda. Absolutely no difference, no matter what ‘delusional’ beliefs they hold.
I try not to get my head caught up in the ruckus. But it’s hard when you realize that the number of people out there trying to PLAY God outweighs the number of people trying to PLEASE God, and by a large margin. Hate is escalating out of control. The world is being run with money and war as its number one priorities, and people are at the bottom of the list. That’s a fact. And its mind-numbingly disturbing.
Sitting here, saying a silent prayer for those wasted lives of our Paris brothers and sisters. My heart hurts, along with the rest of the worlds, not just for what happened in Paris, but for the senseless tragedies that occur everywhere, everyday.
By the same token, it also makes me cherish everyday I get to spend with the people that I love. A conscience effort has to be made, to keep on keeping on. To keep living and keep loving, because events like this prove, that the opportunity can disappear at any moment. The minute you let that fear enter your arena, is the minute these guys have won. It’s something I have to constantly tell myself, something we all have to keep telling ourselves.
I received an email just now, from change.org, calling for a ban on some chick named Cassidy Boons Facebook page. To be honest, I had never heard of her before, so I decided to check out her blog. And after reading it, I literally CANNOT stop laughing.
Like, I serial, legit just cannot stop laughing. I was literally laughing so much I think I gave myself abs for days. This girl seriously has a few screws missing in her head. Either that, or she is getting her kicks out of causing a ruckus. I’m leaning more towards a delusional disorder, though. There’s no other way to explain it. She has either never been diagnosed, never been aware of it, or she is aware of it and is fully embracing it. In all its dysfunctional glory.
To Boon or not to Boon? That is the question. Shall we get rid of her, or nah? Either way, whether she comes or goes, I don’t really give two fucks. I personally find her a riot. On the other hand, I do understand, though, why people are getting all up and arms about her, and her misguided shit.
It is obvious that she has no idea what she is on about. The other thing that is ALSO blatantly obvious is that she is an extremely talented, creative writer with an extraordinary imagination.
Other than that, the chick is, to put bluntly, full of shit.
Take the fact that she is now suing a man for rape, after he saved her from drowning. To be honest, reading this reminded me of a Mills and Boons novel with a warped twist. Check it out.
‘I was disgusted at this hairy man having felt it appropriate to touch my body like that. To grab me forcefully and pull me in what ever direction HE wanted to go. He took control of my body down there in the cold water, when I was unconscious and unable to look out for myself, he touched my all-but-bikini bare body when I was KNOCKED out and unable to struggle. Him, being a white man, felt he had the right to possess my milky body – to put his rough hands on my innocent flesh and command my body to come with him to the surface. I did NOT give him consent, in fact I was UNABLE to give consent and yet he grabbed me around my waist and gripped my hand and pressed my body against his like we he wanted to engage in aquatic sex.
I am now charging or suing or whatever this man for rape – because what he did is literally the definition of rape – he exerted his Patriarchal power over me and did stuff to my body without my consent. Sure, he saved me from drowning, but if we start excusing rape just because our rapists did a nice thing to us, we’re really just excusing rape culture.’
See what I mean? Strong imagination indeed. A flair for creative writing, yeah. Somebody to be taken seriously…no. I have never in my life read so much stupid in one post. If I were him, I would have burst out laughing until tears ran down my cheeks, but tears of disbelief, not fear. Then I would have been all ‘see you in court then’ and smiled at her serenely, like the ‘disgusting rapist’ that I am.
One of her other posts that have been doing the rounds is her call to ban the haka for being ‘sexist.’ Not only did she suggest that the haka hinted at domestic and rape overtures, but she also, very wrongly, stated the All Blacks to be a FOOTBALL team. Hahahahahaha.
Read the full absurdity below:
There’s so much about New Zealand to cover that I got really angry just reading everything, so I decided to focus on one especially horrific thing they get up to in New Zealand – it’s called “the Haka” and it’s one of the most sexist things I’ve ever seen.
Okay so let me explain the Haka. You know that football team, the All Blacks? Well, before every game, they do this really weird, intimidating dance in front of the opposite team to try and scare them or whatever. These people will literally stick their tongues out and make exaggerated, masculine movements that hint at domestic violence and rape. It’s obvious that the Haka isn’t REALLY meant to scare the opposing team, it’s meant to assert dominance over WOMEN and scare us into submission. The All Blacks are obviously doing this misogynistic dance in order to make women and transfolk around the world feel unsafe. I can’t believe New Zealand will allow their football team to do this extremely scary and intimidating dance that literally makes me as a woman and a feminist, very, very scared.
So yeah, out of everything I’ve read about New Zealand, the Haka is, like, the worst thing that you guys have given the world, and as a feminist and a social justice activist, I must use my power to stop it. I am now starting a hashtag campaign called #BanTheHaka that I hope will end this sexist dance forever. Tweet under the hashtag to get behind this movement and help me put an end to the Haka terror! I am not letting you #HakaHobbits win. I hope that teaches you not to mess with the Boon again, you’ve been EXPOSED!
Am I the only one that laughed uproariously at the stupidity of this post? The All Blacks a football team? The haka meant to scare women into submission? And shes gonna use her ‘powers’ to stop it.
All I can say to that is PUKANA!!! BLAH!
Other gems the ‘boob’…oh shit, sorry the BOON has come up with include the following:
eating vegemite makes you racist towards aboriginals because it is black.
english people need to stop drinking tea because its racist towards Indians
why minecraft is sexist and needs to be banned
why its ok for girls to cheat on guys
For utmost originality, I commend you, girl. Doesn’t really surprise me anymore, the things people will say and do to garner fame, even if it is gonna come back and bite you in the butt one day. I predict Cassidy Boon is about to become one of the most, ummmm, ‘beloved feminists’ on the block (if she isn’t already) so I sincerely hope she can afford herself a bodyguard because she is most likely gonna need one to protect her from all the tomatoes and eggs that are about to come flinging her way. To be honest, she kind of reminds me of Natalia Kills, that willy wonka looking chick on XFACTOR. First, she had her five minutes of notorious fame. Now shes a forgotten has-been.
Sad, really, because, as I mentioned above, the Boon is a superb writer. I follow Cassidy Boon because I like laughing at her, and the idiotic shit she comes up with. Don’t get mad people. Living with a delusional disorder is not easy. Next time she pops up, just humour her. Nod like your nodding at a ward eight patient. Let her know that the world is not against her. And maybe remind her to take her meds, while you’re at it.
Its my 35th birthday next Friday, and I have been scheming. The plans I have cooked up to celebrate this day can be considered both outlandish, as well as challenging. Outlandish because I am (obviously) no longer a young, flexible, immortal 22 year old, and can barely drink beyond eleven o clock anymore, let alone stand in a club without feeling like a granny. And challenging because these plans I have deliberately designed to be a kind of turning point, the end of an era, and the closing of a chapter in my life that should have been slammed shut a long time ago.
Anyway, more on that next week. Today’s scribble has got nothing to do with my birthday, but more to do with the fact that I am getting older, and more seasoned and, one would hope, more wiser. I have been around for a wee while now, and feel I am well within my rights to pass on some, umm, pearls of wisdom to the unsuspecting, the naïve and the innocently unaware out there.
BRUSH AND FLOSS THOSE TEETH YA’LL!
I say that with vehemence too, not humour. Brush and floss those teeth! Everyday! I’ve always believed a smile to be the most attractive physical feature on any human. When you reach my age, and you have spent years treating your teeth as an afterthought rather than a priority, you will wake up one day, and suddenly find that that pearly smile of yours now resembles a set akin to Gollum’s from Lord of the rings. Scary.
This subject comes to the forefront of my mind because, lately, I have been pondering about doing something drastic to reverse the damage I have inflicted upon my poor chompers. And I am slowly coming to the realization that it’s going to cost an arm and leg to fix it. My teeth are in a horrendous state. Not only are they almost as yellow as the sun but, just the other month, a large portion of my right canine tooth fell away, leaving a blackened pointy piece just hanging there in the gap. Every time I eat too enthusiastically, it cuts my upper lip. And smiling brightly or laughing heartily is just too hard now that I have to rush to cover my mouth with my hand every time I hear something really funny.
It’s a sucky situation to be in. Bit of a battering on your confidence. I have always been a smiley person. These days, I have to smile with my lips clamped shut. Not cool at all.
Brush and floss those teeth. And everyday! No matter how young you are, and even if you think you know everything, please heed this advice. If there is one thing I wish I had done in my younger day, that would have been it right there.
Toothache are caused by a number of things, but the most common cause for toothache is cavities. With cavities, the toothache occurs when a rotting and decaying tooth is left untreated. Often times, in this situation, the progression is slow, but once the bacteria from the tooth enters the nerve area, be ready for hell on earth!
And there is not much you can do, once the pain is there. You can dull it and find temporary relief in the hundreds of methods out there available for toothache, but it never truly goes away until you get the fucker yanked out. Honestly, its like needles running through your jaw. Sometimes the pain was so bad I would want to crawl into a hole and die. Instead I’d try every single method on google, from cloves to bananas, baking soda and kawakawa leaves, before indulging in straight whiskey or weed for temporary relief. I also switched my toothpaste from Colgate to Sensodyne which, amazingly, helped a whole heap until I was able to get the money together to get them pulled out.
Speaking of money, the teeth business is NOT cheap. That’s the second problem. Here in Perth, the costs of getting teeth pulled and capped average around 300 to 400 hundred – and that’s just for ONE little, teeny weeny tooth? It’s a hefty cost but, once toothache hits you, you are deliriously more than happy to fork out a fortune if it means getting rid of the ugly pain once and for all.
I know a few of my family members who have a full set of falsies. From what I gather, the entire procedure, pulling all teeth out, booking appointments, fittings etc costs close to two and a half grand. There are other options, such as teeth whitening surgery, which costs, oh, about a couple hundred cheaper. Barely chump change, and hardly a bargain. You see what I’m saying? This can ALL be avoided if you just take care of your teeth in the first place. Brush and floss those teeth. Everyday. Listen to your dentist or you’ll be throwing all your hard-earned money at him when you are older.
Read through this forum here and take note of how many people are crying over toothache, even grown ass men. When your done, read this one, then think to yourself, oh fuck this could be me one day – low self-confidence because of my ugly-gappy-blackened tooth smile. Sorry if this offends, but I’m trying to get a point across. I personally know ALOT of people who have bad teeth, and they seem to be getting on with their lives just fine. But it doesn’t have to be that way. I’m positive they’d all tell you the same thing, anyway, if you ever pluck up the nerve to ask them.
Brush and floss those teeth. Everyday.
Have I stated that enough times for it to sink in yet?
Yesterday, while sitting down to lunch at work, mindlessly nibbling on a day old scone, I found myself browsing through this CLEO magazine – the same CLEO magazine that has been in the staffroom for the past year and a half that I have, for some reason, never been motivated enough to pick up, until that point. This magazine was dated back to four years ago, and had Taylor Swift plastered on its cover. Probably why I never bothered with it before. Because the fact is I cannot stand her, or any other millennium girl teeny bopper artist, for that matter. Nothing personal, just a matter of taste, I guess.
Anyway, I came across this article, outlining the daily habits that extremely successful woman have in common, and there was one habit that stood out ominously, like a green bush in a brown hayfield. It’s the life long habit these women shared, of being early risers. Getting out of bed before the sun is even in the sky. And making the most of those first few hours when the world is still semi-dark, and most human beings are snoring loudly, still immersed in dreamland. .
When I say ominously, I meant that in the way where it pointed out that I had absolutely nothing in common with these powerful women. And that put me on a downer. Deep down inside, despite all that’s happened in my life, and the (too) cruisy way in which I operate my existence these days, I still have this burn – that strong desire of making something of myself, career wise. And I haven’t done it yet. Not even halfway. The first step hasn’t even been attempted. And I have no-one to blame but myself.
Getting up before the sun. That was really emphasised in this article. Yoga, meditation, lemon water or brisk early morning walks ranked high on the list of activities to do within this ungodly time. Now, I have had spurts of attempting this route in the past. It totally makes sense, and I wish my ability to be disciplined overpowered my ability to procrastinate, as I seem to have the procrastination buzz down to a fine art. Given that I also seem to have this crippling insomnia disorder thanks to an overactive imagination, as well as a penchant for watching movies into the wee hours of the morning, its no wonder I find it hard to roll outta bed at nine. At times, I even bowl up to work most days five or ten minutes late, even though I start at eight o clock, and my job is only a short five minute drive away.
This article bought home a reality to me. That basically, I’m a lazy cunt. It also bought home the fact that this is what distinguishes the average joe from the truly successful. Daily habits. Habits that are practiced diligently, day after day, month after month, year after year until they are just as automatic and important and embedded in your psyche as sleeping and eating.
We are all extremely talented and gifted in one way or another. Each and every one of us. But one thing I have observed just from watching the world around me is that extremely talented people rarely reach the fullness of their potential. Why is this? Is it because talent, alone, is not what gets you there? I think so. If it was, we would have all been able to drink alcohol, smoke drugs, procrastinate as much as we liked, as well as become world famous authors/artists/singers/make-up artists or whatever career path we wished to pursue. But it doesn’t seem to work that way, does it? It’s a choice of one or the other. Somethings gotta give. Somethings gotta take. Hard work. Discipline. And daily dedication to FRUITFUL habits.
I needed this wake up call. I really, really did.
Success has its own definitions. Perspectives of it are all varying and different and can change. For example, success for my adopted mother meant finding some religious faith that she could resonate with, and which could give her what I think she sought most of her life – inner peace and happiness. This was obvious to me because, growing up, I remember her changing her faiths more than I changed my undies. That was my mum, always trying to find God. That was her buzz. My biological mother, on the other hand, was all about chasing security. She started in the cafe at Tasman, a prestigious paper mill company, and worked her way up over the years to an operator position where she now not only demands respect from men, but also calls some of the shots. I’m guessing here, but I think that was her definition of having achieved success. Money. Power. And all the perks that came with it which, in the end, she inevitably got.
I remember when I was a fat teenager, tipping the scales at 100 plus kg’s. Success for me meant losing weight and getting some kind of revenge on all those who had ever teased me about my weight growing up. When I lost the weight, I found a guy who was willing to take me on, warts on all, and my game plan changed. Success at that point meant going all out to own this guy, heart, body and soul, something I don’t think I ever achieved after fourteen years plus. During ALL these ups and downs, there burned yet that same, all-encompassing desire to succeed as an established writer. I’ve had articles featured in New Idea and our local newspaper, and came runner up in a prestigious story competition in Intermediate. When I was pregnant with me first child, I spent my whole pregnancy writing, and managed to pen an entire book with twenty something chapters on my laptop, only to have it crash the day I brought my girl home. I’ve attempted countless blogs, only to chuck it in because I can’t be bothered. When my baby was born, the game changed, yet again. Since she entered my world, it has solely been about her. Success means being the best mother I can be. And now that she is four, I find myself gravitating back to what I know best. To what has always felt like home to me. My writing.
That’s saying something, I think. On one hand, I yearn to be a success in the way where I can one day hope to hear my daughter tell me that she is proud to have a mum like me. That’s the ultimate. On the other hand, I yearn relentlessly to do something great with my writing, always have, probably always will, because theres so much I’ve got to say, so much in me, you know, and there are people out there who are relying on me to be a voice for them – a voice of truth. This is my career, my thing, and something that’s been with me since I was eight. Thanks to that CLEO magazine I just so happened to pick up that day, its given me the kick up the arse that I need to finally get my shit together. Writing, alone, is not gonna do it. A new day is emerging.
So, you know, its 5.30am in the morning, and I am seated outside at the table, sipping lemon water and banging away on this old thing. It is semi-dark, the sun is faintly glowing in the distance, and my household is snoring loudly, immersed still in dreamland. I’m blurry eyed, body banged up from a hardcore day at work yesterday and tired as hell, but I’m awake. And I’m determined to do this. I try and fail and have done so hundred thousand times, but I’m going to keep trying until the day comes, and I finally get it right.