eumelia: (Default)
I don't actually have anything to say right now, because I'm waiting for my friends to come over for some New Year cupcakes.

Maybe there will be Irish cream.

I just thought the 31st deserved a post as well.

I hope I write some more in the coming year. Something tells me I will.

Good night and good morning dear readers.

Thanks for being there.

Happy New Year.

It's going to be so grand.
eumelia: (flog it)
My uterus is trying to claw its way out of my body and these past few weeks have been no good, bad, horrible.

I think I'm warranted chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate milk this evening before I go off to make myself a proper supper.

I'm not feeling overwhelmed like I did before. I paid my first utility bill and am feeling mighty grown up, although I think I passes a level when it comes to adulthood regarding what I had to do yesterday.

You'll need a bit of back story and a strong stomach for this story is about plumbing and how it can sometimes become your life.

I'm recounting this, because suffering should be shared and not wallowed.

Some of you may recall the drama of my apartment.

I mentioned two weeks ago, or thereabouts, that the toilets in my flat were leaking and that the washing machine broke by deciding to leak and be an electrical hazard and whatnot.

Well the plumber came and did what plumbers do to fix leaks of this kind... He stuck some silicone goo stuff around the pipes, bid me farewell and left. I, being a first time tenant and overall helpless young bachelor(ette) called my land lady and informed her of the goings on. She said "fine, I'm covering the plumbing issues" and we say goodbye.

The washing machine repair man came, gave me a very expensive diagnosis (we need our washing machine!) and I called the landlady again, to tell her about this and the cost.

The woman blew up on me and flaked on me, telling me that I was inconsiderate and that I and [Sexy!Roommate] have done nothing but complain and did she not put in bay window for us on her own dime and I was utterly flabbergasted.

She told me to get the machine fixed, but it was at our own expense.

I spoke to people afterwards, people being my roommate and my sister who is a lawyer... yeah.

The washing machine was fixed and the guy said to let it run empty to make sure it works.

By this point I was a little rattled and had ranted and wailed to people. It all came to a head when I heard some rustle come from the service balcony. The rustle, as you may have guessed, was a flood of water from the washing machine.

I very bravely didn't cry.

I called the guy again and he returned to fix something he should have tightened before hand. I hope I never have to call a repair man, but if I ever do, I am never calling him again.

The man left and you'll be happy to know I've used the washing machine since then without incident, it's quite nice to have something that was supposed to work... actually work

It was after that, that I thought I could relax and actually use a non-leaky toilet without having to squeegee the floor. Well, nature called and wouldn't you know, the toilet didn't leak, because it was blocked. The water wouldn't go down and the water actually burst through the drainage pipe that is situated, you guessed it, on the service balcony.

At this point, I just wanted my fucking floor to be dry!

Cue the plumber again and me being very harried indeed.

The plumber said I looked like I'd been traumatised. Well, when you've had things go very wrong, very badly, very quickly one tends to get harried.

Once the asshole was done and took what was left of my cash he said to me, in that patronising way men of a certain age speak to women my age, "You know there are bigger problems in the world."

To which I replied before shutting the door in his face: "Yes, but these are mine".

And so, my landlady calls me not long after to inform me that [Sexy!Roommate] and I are no longer allowed to throw toilet paper into the toilet. Because this is what caused the blockage.

My roommate and I were utterly disbelieving, because what? We can't use the toilet the way man and woman intended? Seriously? And so we said "okay" and continued to use the facilities like civilised human beings.

Yesterday morning, nature called as it want to do. The water wouldn't go down. "Motherfuck" is what I said, quite succinct if I do say so myself. Being much poorer than I was and greatly reluctant to call a plumber and/or the landlady, I put on my big girl pants, rubber gloves and said to myself "Mel, you've changed the nappies of toddlers with diarrhoea. This is a piece of cake."

And indeed, toilet paper was the culprit.

I fucking hate this fucking flat.

Being independent is grand, I'm happy to be living on my own with a roommate. I'd be happier if this apartment actually behaved the way it is supposed to and would stop being such a menace to my health. Mental or otherwise.

But hey, at least I have cooking gas! It's supper time!
eumelia: (thinky thoughts)
It feels strange that we're switching the numbers again.

For me the new year really started way back when in September (around Rosh Ha'Shana) and my roommate and I started being proactive about looking for an apartment and registering for classes.

Along with having a nasty PTSD setback around that time it kind of marks that time of year as a start of something - I'm not sure where October and November went to, because all I can remember of October is the family vacation I went on and the fact that I moved out of my parents' home something like two weeks after that.

I'm really enjoying the independence, financial stress and uni woes notwithstanding. I mean, knowing I can handle (not well, but I can do it) multiple failings in an apartment in a somewhat dodgy neighbourhood is certainly nothing to sniff at.

The fact that this year I returned to writing seriously, one slogging word at a time, thanks to several inspiring fandoms - X-Men: First Class, you're a fantastic movie - pity your creators are asses and many of the participants in fandom are a bunch on entitled *mumble mumble*. Hawaii Five-0 who knew I could love something like that, this much and have it be such an inspiration to me. I know, gushing over pop-culture like this is kind of gauche, but who cares right!?

Looking at what I have planned for January it is certainly going to be a busy month, but I can't think of a better way to kick start the year.
eumelia: (vocation)
It's been... wow... two weeks.

This is also possibly the worst time to actually update because the majority of you, dear readers, are probably getting wasted on mulled wine and eggnog (I myself have been slowly stuffing myself with Sufganiot - that's doughnuts to you gentiles :P)

Much has happened since I wrote last and most of it is quite good, which, considering my last few posts is rather great and it's not so much that I've been AFK (even though that's also happened).

So, what has happened?

Well, uni is still boring and not really that enjoyable. I am loving this living with a roommate in my own apartment - even though my flat tries to periodically kill me with sparking electrical sockets, and flooding toilets and washing machines - but god, being accountable to no one nut myself and my ever decreasing bank account, is awesome.

Other great things is that being free of so called "adult supervision" is that I've been proactive about getting myself a network in my new city. So I've joined an academically inclined LGBT/Queer reading group with a focus on the theoretical prism of Homonationalism. Why yes, we are all Ivory Tower Leftist Gay Intellectuals - only we're poor, working outside of academia (we meet at the Feminist Community Centre "Isha L'Isha" which is Hebrew for "Woman to/for Woman") and are pretty pissed off about having "gay rights" used as a propaganda tool.

The coinor of the term "Homonationalism", Jasbir Puar is coming to Israel next month and yeah, I'm going to hear her speak. BDS is good for this shit, I tell you!

But the best thing about "Isha L'Isha" is that they have a library and archive for which they need a volunteer to catalogue and classify. Guess who's starting volunteering there next month?

Hells yes it's me!

In addition, I went to a volunteer recruitment meet for an organisation that sends LGBT people to schools, military bases, police stations etc. in an Education and Change capacity - where us LGBT's tell our "life stories" and then have a Q&A in order to broaden people's horizons and hopefully have younger or closeted LGBT and queer listeners know that we are out there and in the classroom.

I am slightly cynical, as is possibly evident, by the actual capacity for difference any of this makes, but hey, I'm an also an idealist in the worst possible way and I believe in exposure, truth and education.

I was contacted by the recruitment coordinator and they likes what I had to say at the meet (they're also desperate for volunteers) and would like me to continue on the path to building a "personal story" and volunteer once a month.

I'll let you all know what happens.

And those have been the past two weeks, along with gorging myself on oily foods and cake due to holidays and Nieces birthday parties.
eumelia: (oy vey)
Fuck my life.

Seriously!

Yesterday was a good day. It really was. It was family and food and doing shit!

I feel like some kind of cosmic checks and balances suddenly noticed I was in a good mood and that things were actually going pretty well for me and went "nuh uh!".

The leak? It is worse, the plumber is coming tomorrow.

The washing machine? It fucks with the whole electrical current of the apartment! It blew the fuse three times. At least the washing is done, I guess? Will there be a visit from the electrician tomorrow? You betcha'!

Oh, and during those little mini-blackouts? My internet router lost all the definitions it had for the past two months. I spent an hour on the phone with the idiots from my ISP and phone company. I say "idiots" plural because I spoke to four different people in a single hour!

It was a close call, but I decided against naming the wireless network "FuckMyLife" or "ARGH".

RAWR!

Add to that that [Sexy!Roommate] is not here to do this shit with me or even commiserate and my mood is blown!

Thank god my BFF called me and we talked while I hung the washing and did the dishes and she gave me permission to bitch, complain and generally be the extrovert I am when in comes to dealing with my life.

Oh my god, I'm so tired.

Oy.
eumelia: (get a job)
Where does the time go?

I've barely updated here other than fannish stuff and even then, I feel like I'm forcing myself, I'm just lacking in energy I suppose.

But today I'm feeling good!

The majority of my huge nuclear family came to visit me in my flat far away from their regular abodes and brought with them stuff!

Stuff like food, a carpet (rug, I guess, but I call it a carpet), a bookshelf (along with a bunch of my books!), a mini stereo system that I can connect my little mp3 player to and a red coat hanger! Finally, I can sit on the chair in my room because my bag, jacket, jim-jams and tomorrow's outfit are now hanging up there.

And then we went out to Wadi Nisnas where there's a festival going on and so many are decorating for Christmas! There was music, roasted chestnuts, kanafeh (which my nephews don't seem to like, te mind boggles), crepes and a mish-mash of people, which I love.

My sister commented on how mixed my neighbourhood is and yeah, I like that, even though it's less neighbourly and more everyone being equally racist towards each other, i.e. ignoring each other's existence - except when there is, you know, mandatory interaction like saying "excuse me" in the stairwell.

You have no idea how much this means me!

Oh, and my signed A Study in Emerald now hangs over my bed. Finally, my bedroom is more than a room with a bed.

It actually feels like things are coming together.

Other than, you know, a leak I discovered in our bathroom - I guess two people using it at different intervals wouldn't notice, as the toilet is situated right next to the shower so the floor there is always kind of wet, but with more than ten people using it before heading out for a few hours on the town...

Yeah, there's a leak. I mean, I thought there was before, but wasn't sure and as such didn't call plumbers or my landlady (I try, to no avail, to avoid speaking with her, but she calls, a lot, on a fairly regular basis).

Well, there's always tomorrow. *sigh*

And in other news, I have a job! I work in a book store! Where my fellow workers assume I'm studying for what I'm currently doing; stacking books.

Oh well.

But life, it carries on and I can only keep calm.
eumelia: (master politician)
[Sexy!Roommate]: I need a pen, a pen that works that will make everything better.

Melody Pond: Do you want a sword instead?

[Sexy!Roommate]: I want a democracy!

Melody Pond: Tough luck, baby!

---

More on the above, later. Now, I'm out the door!
eumelia: (mystique)
My whole life it's been thrown in my face.

As an accusation, more than anything. As a way to deflate my arguments, my words and my own feelings.

I'm over sensitive, so I'm looking to be offended.

I'm over sensitive, so I imagined the teasing, it was meant as a compliment.

I'm over sensitive, so the disparaging looks and gazes hurled at me were imagined, in my head, actually want it to happen just so I have something to complain about.

What does it actually mean, to be called out as "over sensitive"?

It has always, always been used as a way to silence me. It has always been a weapon to cut me at the knees and make sure I know my place - silent and weeping in the corner.

And it's not even being aware that the world is shit and that bad things happen due to disparity in power dynamics and gross social injustices.

This has been my life since I was a child.

And now, as an adult, and I swallow the lump in my throat because everything I say is coloured by this prism of sensitivity.

It is flung in my face too often and getting tips by those who silence me how to deal with the silencing is a small comfort - especially when I'm told they feel sorry that I take things so personally.

My over "sensitivity" fuelled rage wants to take a chair and throw it over someone's head, but social programming prevents me from going feral in a house of residence, or, you know at all.

It's just, you know, this week has had a few wins against the patriarchy, what with Israel's rapist (ex-)president going away for seven years and participating in an event protesting the marginalisation of women in Israel due to growing religious extremism, but reading about the news about Penn State in the United States and that getting into an argument about the position of women in public and the symptom of street harassment and how people do not get that this is all connected, it makes me bury my face in my hands and wail inside my head.

Yeah, if I'm sensitive, I fear how numb so many other people in my life are.

Being called over sensitive is equivalent to being called irrelevant. I am too sensitive to judge anything fairly or have an informed opinion about anything because it the speech of an hysterical woman.

I regret to say I left the conversation. I often do. It is difficult for me to handle the assault over my emotions and my perceptions, because when I fight back I will raise my voice and my abrasiveness will overtake and being of small statue and round face, I do not look like an informed and factual feminist woman, but more like an angry teenage girl with a grudge against the world.

My body dictates the perception.

This is how it has always been.

I'll just sit here and swallow the tears that make my eyes shine and my voice catch, because obviously, it is useless to speak for too long about that which has forced me to grow a skin that feels foreign to me.
eumelia: (resist!)
As you know I am currently jobless. The prospect of getting a job at the moment is daunting as the economy is particularly tanked and it has actually been convenient for me to have all this time on my hands in order to deal with the disaster of moving into an apartment that wasn't as good as [Sexy!Roommate] and I first thought.

Not all that glitters is gold as the saying goes.

The country is very likely to be going on general strike tomorrow, which I am totally for, as the only way to get the workers who are outsourced any rights is for the public and semi-public sectors to shut down the systems.

The amount of anti-strike sentiment is unsettling, considering the summer of "Social Justice" we supposedly had. It stops it touches you personally, huh. It also goes to show how out of touch so many people in this country are.

Yeah, I need the bus and the train, but the people who clean the buses and bus stations deserve a living wage.

The universities are also striking, so tomorrow [Sexy!Roommate] and I will clean the place up and hopefully get other shit done that doesn't require me to be attached to the phone.

I have had it up to here with the effing phone.

With luck, things will settle by mid-November and I'll be able to get a move on job finding wise and the apartment won't give me any more headaches.

Next up: I fucking hate religion.
eumelia: (gryffindor)
It's been a week since I moved into my own apartment.

I happen to be spending this weekend without [Sexy!Roommate] but that's all right, because I met with friends last night. A friend from Uni (previous, not current) invited me over for Friday night supper and it was quite glorious. A close-knit group being so warm and accepting towards a "stranger" and excellent food - there were not enough people to eat it all.

And today I work up so very late and had breakfast for lunch.

Apparently I moved into a neighbourhood with quite a dodgy reputation, which I understand where it comes from, it is quite neglected (despite the fact that many of the neighbourhoods, other than the tourist traps and historically restored ones, are equally neglected by the city) and what you'd consider "low class", I can't really tell you if the reputation of dogdiness is warranted. Maybe once I've lived here for longer.

Right now it's raining buckets while the sun is shining. My parents always said that there's a monkey wedding when that happens.

I don't really understand that idiom, but it's something that stuck on my mind, because I can only assume it means monkeys get married under a rainbow.

My room still doesn't feel like it's mine. There are too many things missing and there is still so much to be done in the flat itself.

Maybe you're all bored by all this writing about the changes I've gone though over the past few weeks...

So, is there something you want me to write about? Something you miss reading on this LJ/DW? Are you all busy writing NaNoWriMo?

R 'n' R

Nov. 1st, 2011 08:52 pm
eumelia: (not in rome)
I am about to commence my slip and slide into a vegetative state.

It has been a long few weeks, weekend and three days.

I wrote a things on Sunday to post once I had my own internet (which I now do, on my name and everything!) and didn't have time to write yesterday as Mondays are now my hellish days.

So, here's what I wrote on Sunday, enjoy the freak oute!

Sunday 30.10.11

I wrote this Sunday night, while I was clinging to the single bar on free internet and [Sexy!Roommate] wrote her Seminar.

It just so happened that her room is the only place that had actual internet access from a thoughtful/careless neighbor – she’s been wonderful in letting me sit in her room, we are supposed to get hooked up on Tuesday (God is Great and פעמיים כי טוב, pa’amaim ki tov, it is good twice over), so I’m cautiously optimistic.

Let me tell you about the move itself.

There were misshaps and missteps that were more about [Sexy!Roommate] than me, so I shan’t get into them, but suffice to say we were both exsausted by the end of the day. Also, as she has lived in her own places before now, she brought basically everything she owns.

It took us a couple of hours to arrange the furniture the way we like. During this time the hot water timer was on.

My brother helped schlep my desk and bookshelf earlier that day and he had a cold shower afterwards. We weren’t sure if our water heater was solar as well as electrical. Seeing as it had been a sunny day and he only had cold water I assumed the water had simply not been heated for a while.

So yeah, we switched on the water heater.

Wouldn’t you know, I nearly gave myself frost bite.

I was not going to bed sweaty, dusty and stinky after moving my life from here to there, so I gritted my teeth and shrieked as I washed my (thankfully short) hair in icy water.

We had made a list over the evening of things we needed to do today (when I say “we”, I mean me, because she’s got a job that makes her work long hours and I am currently unemployed so I have the time to waste) and I very angrily and underlined “Electrician” several times.

I informed our $#%&$#@ landlady of our troubles. I’m reluctant to actually lay out everything that is horrible about this woman, but for those of you I have spoken to on different avenues – everything I said? She’s worse!

So, I called a guy, forked over way too much money for what was probably the simplest problem on earth and I indeed had a hot shower this evening.

It was the best shower ever.

We also don’t have gas for the stove, the toaster oven’s nob is stuck on the highest heat, we don’t have enough electrical sockets and when I said our furniture was “arranged”? I meant in disarray.

I understand that this is SN(AFU).

As I said, [Sexy!Roommate] has basically moved her life here and I have not.

I am planning to trickle my stuff as I visit my parents. This will enable me to sift through my many books and DVD’s and decide which ones should come with me for keeps and which ones can stay behind and keep my old room homey – it’s going to be a long while. At the moment I’ve got three Gerrald Durrel (yeah, I’m on a kick) books with me. Seeing as [Sexy!Roommate] is a Buffy Fan as well, I think I’ll bring all my Aca!Buffy books along.

I didn’t take into account how quickly the weather will change. As such I have no winter clothing with me and will be borrowing shirts from [Sexy!Roommate] as we are the same shirt size.

It’s lucky I’m heading down to my parents on Wednesday and will be able to take up more stuff.

One thing I’m definitely missing is a bedside table and bookshelf of my own in my room. I feel oddly as sea without being able to read beside me and switch on a lamp, grab my phone or my watch, or have a place on which to place my flash drives and jewelry.

Today was also bureaucracy day. I have discovered that a big part of the bureaucratic method is trying to discover where it actually happens. As I mentioned on Twitter, “Kafka was right”. I certainly felt as though I was wondering aimlessly through corridors trying to find where I was supposed to put my brain for safe keeping.

I did, ho wever, discover where many of the things happen and what forms I should bring next time in order to get my forms signed and registered.

Go me! \o/

So while many things this week are bust because, like many bureaucratic offices, they are only open at certain hours on certain days, I will probably only be able to get what I wanted done today next Sunday. This is much less stressing than I initially thought it would be, because I now know where to go and who to call!

The little things that please me as a(n ir)responsible adult.

If all is good (twice over on a Tuesday), this will be posted along with other belated posts some time on Tuesday evening – though I may be busy with fandom, because damn I miss it now that it feels so far away due to sketchy internet!

As I write this, I am heating up some pita in the toaster oven for my sandwiches tomorrow (Monday), because, oh my word, it is going to be the first day of school!

I finished writing this post at five to eleven pm.
eumelia: (Default)
And I have sketchy internet!

I already have anecdotes of mishaps.

Once I am not piggy backing off a neighbour I will share.

Thanks to all who commented, messaged and/or emailed!

Tomorrow is my first day of school.

I hope to have details of everything at a later date.
eumelia: (flags)
Never have those song lyrics been more appropriate. Only those lyrics, mind, as I'm not leaving a sweetheart behind and I'll most likely be coming back to my parents' house later this week, but man...

I'm moving out.

I have pots and pans.

A lamp.

A huge backpack full of clothes.

A desk.

A bookshelf.

Food that my mother foisted onto me and [Sexy!Roommate]

A bunch of stuff I already took up to my apartment.

My apartment. A place of my own. With a friend.

I'm overwhelmed, because there is still so much to do; register with the municipality, get my student card, my student bus card, a job.

One of my friends said I'd have a hard time finding a job in the city I'm moving to and I wanted to hit him, because who the fuck says something like that (but knowing him, I guess I shouldn't be surprised) - I am prepared to work a job that will suck if it pays the bills and gives me time to study (two days a week, this is an MLS) and do whatever I want.

But yeah, that's where I'm going.

This is what I'm doing.

I've been veering between excited, apprehensive, crying jags and simple rage because I've never done this before.

But I'm ready to go.

Like yesterday, today the first day of the rest of my life.

I'll most likely be without internet the first few days so I won't be around until I'm properly hooked up or find some public wi fi.

See you on the flip side.
eumelia: (beautiful)
Oh my god, this took forever to write. I had to stop watching ten minutes to the end, because my ride to work called me. Then, I had to go sign my lease and had to stop in the middle of the rewatch for this post (oh, yeah, I'm moving to my own flat with a room mate, more on that later). And then, it took forever for me to download the screencaps I wanted for this post.

But here it is. I hope you enjoy!

Spoliers and Treasure! Yarrr... errr, right, no pirates in this one )

To conclude... Hells Yes! I'm not saying it made up for horribleness of episode 2.02 or the disaster of portrayal and imagery that was 2.03, but it's a fucking start! Totally looking forward to next week.
eumelia: (diese religione)
It's probably significant that I'm writing a navel gazing religion thing post-Days of Awe and Yom Kippur, which this year failed to move me as in previous cycles.

It may have to do with the fact that my outside world stress exacerbated my inner world stress. I'll (very very probably, but nothing is signed yet and until then I'm not willing to say live or die) move out by the end of the month. It's going to be the first time living outside of my parents house other then those six months in the US where I lived with my sisters (and had zero expenses).

I don't have a job lined up yet and university is starting... about the same time I'm setting up shop with my room mate (thank god for her, I don't think I would have managed to do anything if it wasn't for her holding my hand throughout this whole thing).

Add to that a "mild" brain meltdown and it's been fucking peachy.

What's all that got to do with religion? Nothing, really, but it seems a good opportunity to talk about things.

Those of you who read me on a regular basis know that I'm atheist, but I also that being Jewish is an important part of my identity. It's a cultural thing, a history thing... a people thing.

Due to the aforementioned life changes I can't say I felt the liturgy flow over me like it usually does. Not even the best Cantor on earth (the only reason I emerge once a year for Yom Kippur to go to shul - Bar/Bat Mitvahs and baby namings don't count) got me feeling that sense of belonging and history I usually feel on Yom Kippur when I stand with the rest of my family and listen to the whole congregation sing the dirge about removing the promises and vows we made the previous year.

Maybe it was due to being stressed about the fact that I'm a sleep away from sighing a binding contract, or that I'm going heading on an entirely new path, one I was not utterly convinced I was going to be on this year.

I've mentioned the brain meltdown, yes?

Not to mention the fact that politically speaking being Jewish puts me squarely in the bad guy's shoes this time around, what with Muslim and Christian graves desecrated over the holy day weekend.

I'm sure "G-d" approved of that bullshit.

So yeah, my "people".

Not feeling the connection that much lately.

Then again, in a new development The courts approve the registration of "no religion" for author Yoram Kaniuk, which would be grand, if religion was actually stated on our ID cards as "religion". It's not, it is stated under nationality - oh, didn't you know that there's no such thing as an "Israeli" nationality. I think if there was, or if there had been, it would have solved a whole lot of things.

But you know, Jewish demographic panic and all that.

I'm bothered that this is what my Judaism is reduced to, and that it's controlled by a Rabbinical court that, well, hates the idea of me.

Ironically, my Jewishness if far more diaspora like than ever, and me? I was born here and I don't really want to leave - despite the fact that some of my closest friends are telling me to join them when they leave.

*clings*
eumelia: (vocation)
In about an hour I'll be registering for classes.

I wish the on-line registration made any kind of sense!

Argh!

On the one hand, there aren't that many classes to chose from, because it's a set MLS, which makes the choice (there being none) easier.

On the other hand, it makes picking the electives (of which I have one this year, a language) very taxing, because I would like to get a job once I move to my University town and having a language in the middle of the effing day twice a week is just not on.

I would like to make the politically right choices when it comes to picking a language. I think Arabic would be the best one, so that I can actually communicate with 20% of this country, but they won't tell me when the courses are!
My other choice would be Yiddish, because there's no language like an endangered language! But it coincidences with a Library class.

Add to that the stress of yesterday, I am not really a happy camper. I am in fact in frustration nation!

*sigh*
eumelia: (vocation)
I got a call from the administrative office of library science department at my new Uni.

Registration for classes is in two weeks.

Oh my god.

You guys!

I need to pick classes that will make me a Librarian!

Okay, I just made my heart beat faster and my stomach flip around. This didn't happen when I spoke to the admin herself!

Crikey! I'm going to school!

Again!

Excuse me while I flail and update my Internet Eeechsplorer, because the website doesn't do open effing source (madness, I say).
eumelia: (mystique)
Over the past half year or so that I've conscientiously stopped waxing my legs and shaving my underarms, I've struck several conversations regarding why I've stopped removing my body hair.

Some are baffled, some are downright angry, some are admiring (one classmate of mine decided to join the ranks of hairy women, after I told about my experience) and some are simply curious. But the consistent remark, no matter the underlying thought regarding my body - my body and my looks are fair game for criticism and observation.

My decision to grow my body hair is my own. Why? Because it's my body and the way I present it is my own business, and wanting it to look a certain way is also my own business.

The notion that I'm required to present a certain way due to aesthetic convention explicitly suggests that my body is for the consumption of my surrounding, as opposed to me being being a person existing on my own terms in relation to my surroundings.

My self esteem regarding my body has definitely improved since I've stopped thinking about whether I'm presentable in a certain way - wearing shorts with my hair showing, wearing a bathing suit (a bikini no less!) to the pool or the beach with my hairy underarms has been extremely beneficial to upping my self worth.

All the above is to put on the table that while I work hard to be unpack the conditioning I've underwent regarding what is feminine and acceptable on my body, I am still sensitive to direct assault on my body image.

When I was a teenager, my skin was so bad and the acne so deep that they became lesions of my akin and have left scars on my shoulders - being prone to keloids will do that - so at the time my skin was a health hazard so I would go to a cosmetician on a regular basis. This, in addition to drug therapy under medical supervision, that went about to change my body chemistry.

I'm now in my mid-twenties and I hadn't been to a cosmetician in a good number of years, I decided to splurge on a facial in order to celebrate the completion of my degree (I got a haircut as well, pics will be posted asap!).

The litany of strikes the cosmetician assaulted me with when she was committing her sadism over my face was, as follows:
#1 You haven't been to a cosmetician in a long time, haven't you?
#2 You don't take very good care of your skin do you?
#3 You should have those moles removed, it's very dangerous.
#4 You should consider going on drug therapy again. Maybe the Pill?
#5 You should get a hormone check, you have an awful lot of secretions.
#6 You do your eyebrows and moustache yourself don't you? They're awfully long, you should get them waxed and cut.

As someone I ranted to about this said, the beauty industry is built on making us feel ugly, but the workers within the industry don't have to buy into it.

Were it not for the fact that I was doing this for myself and the fact that my own feminism has a broad academic backing with which I can reduce the encounter to a full frontal assault with the Beauty Myth and the judgemental mind set that only other women can have on women, I would have probably gone home and cried.

Cried for the fact that my skin is a health hazard, cried for the fact that I was ugly and that some stranger thought I was hopeless, and, actually disgusting - because the disgust dripped off her.

Once we started talking about her kids did I feel I could I actually lie back and take the pain of having my pores de-clogged without actually wanting to grab the scissors that were lying around the room and stab myself in the eye.

Or stab the cosmetician, it depends.

So here I am, a day later, still obsessing about what a stranger said to me. A stranger, I will most likely, never see again. I can only hope.

My point being, no one has the right to be so invasive about what we do with our bodies and how we present them. Not even so-called "beauty experts". Perhaps, especially not them.

That kind of invasiveness and "up-sale" mentality is part of what makes femininity debased and despised. I like being hairy and femmy. It shouldn't be mutually exclusive and it shouldn't have to make us question our decisions or second guess our self worth.
eumelia: (Default)
After I finished writing my papers, I slept for twelve hours.

I may have woken up due to nature calling, but I slept for hours after that.

It was the sleep of the just, my friends. Of the just, because I was done and I had no where to go the day after.

I did, however, decide to clean all the things. And when I say all the things, I mean the fact that over a three month semester and a two and half months long summer I let papers pile on high and books migrated from flat surface to flat surface, leaving dust voids that were very quickly filled. With dust that is.

Six hours.

That is how long it took to make my cave lair place under the bridge bedroom habitual again.

I felt very accomplished, mainly because I also opened up my drawers and empties them of the junk that accumulated since the last time I emptied them. Which was probably when I started my degree, four years ago.

So yeah, I still need to go through all the papers I removed from there. A lot, if not most, will go by way of recycling. But it's a very cleansing thing, going through your drawers and removing the debris. I'll probably do the same with my Uni notes and articles, but I'll let those lie for now. They only recently found a home inside my cupboard.

My main accomplishment, though? Moving my hamper of stuffed animals (my loyal companions since early childhood) into our house's designated kid's room - where my Nieces and Nephews play and sleep when they come over. I was actually all verklempt because I was sealing off a portion of my life that was never coming back. I kept a few small stuffed animals that are easy to place of a bookshelf or something similar - even though in my current status as a single person they sleep quite happily by my pillow!

Related to that, I gave my "My Little Pony" collection to my niece. I had been reluctant to let her play with them, because, you know, they were mine and little grubby five year old hands aren't going to be touching the ponies I played with when I was five! Of course, I then realised I was twenty-six and really, what's the point of keeping toys in a box I hadn't opened in years?

I told my mom, they were to be played with, if my Niece wanted to. My mother's face, boy you could see the glow and she happily told me that while I was at work and my Niece came over she played with the Little Ponies more than any other toy.

Fuck, I'm tearing up just writing this!

*sniff*

Sorry, I seem to be going through growing pains.
eumelia: (polka dot art)
*Deep breath*

Hi guys.

It has been... a long summer. Putting it mildly.

A lot has happened and in fact not that much at all.

But the main thing that happened to me today was that I handed in my final papers and I have officially finished all the academic obligations for my BA in Literary Theory and Women & Gender studies.

Four years.

I can't believe it's been four years. How does that happen?

Soon, I'll be starting the Library Science program at a different university and I'll be going flat "shopping" with my future room mate who is going to be studying along with me.

I am so sleep deprived, I have no idea if any of the above is even coherent.

Suffice to say, I'm back after a summer of way too much on my plate and I'm here to stay.

I hope you all find a reason to stay as well.

Thank you for sticking around.

<3

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eumelia: (Default)
Eumelia

June 2015

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V and Justice

V: Ah, I was forgetting that we are not properly introduced. I do not have a name. You can call me V. Madam Justice...this is V. V... this is Madam Justice. hello, Madam Justice.

Justice: Good evening, V.

V: There. Now we know each other. Actually, I've been a fan of yours for quite some time. Oh, I know what you're thinking...

Justice: The poor boy has a crush on me...an adolescent fatuation.

V: I beg your pardon, Madam. It isn't like that at all. I've long admired you...albeit only from a distance. I used to stare at you from the streets below when I was a child. I'd say to my father, "Who is that lady?" And he'd say "That's Madam Justice." And I'd say "Isn't she pretty."

V: Please don't think it was merely physical. I know you're not that sort of girl. No, I loved you as a person. As an ideal.

Justice: What? V! For shame! You have betrayed me for some harlot, some vain and pouting hussy with painted lips and a knowing smile!

V: I, Madam? I beg to differ! It was your infidelity that drove me to her arms!

V: Ah-ha! That surprised you, didn't it? You thought I didn't know about your little fling. But I do. I know everything! Frankly, I wasn't surprised when I found out. You always did have an eye for a man in uniform.

Justice: Uniform? Why I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. It was always you, V. You were the only one...

V: Liar! Slut! Whore! Deny that you let him have his way with you, him with his armbands and jackboots!

V: Well? Cat got your tongue? I though as much.

V: Very well. So you stand revealed at last. you are no longer my justice. You are his justice now. You have bedded another.

Justice: Sob! Choke! Wh-who is she, V? What is her name?

V: Her name is Anarchy. And she has taught me more as a mistress than you ever did! She has taught me that justice is meaningless without freedom. She is honest. She makes no promises and breaks none. Unlike you, Jezebel. I used to wonder why you could never look me in the eye. Now I know. So good bye, dear lady. I would be saddened by our parting even now, save that you are no longer the woman I once loved.

*KABOOM!*

-"V for Vendetta"

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