Showing posts with label freak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freak. Show all posts

Saturday, July 13, 2013

A Feminist.

Alternate title: How becoming a feminist completely turned my world upside down.

Despite all the religious stifling/brainwashing when I was growing up, I still managed to hang on to my core belief that women should be treated as equals.

In spite of all the abuse and the attempted crushing of my spirit, I have come out on top.

And I have come out a feminist.

However, something that a lot of people don't seem to realize is that, being a feminist doesn't make me a man hater. It doesn't make me a Lesbian. It doesn't change anything about me. I'm still Sarai. I've always been this way, it was just buried.

Being a feminist is about equality. Not just women's rights, but rights as a whole. Everyone's rights. The right to choose, the right to love, the right to be who YOU are. That's something a lot of women have forgotten.

We're not fighting so that our daughters will be free, though that is part of it. We are fighting to show our sons that they don't have to be threatened by a strong woman and that being strong isn't always about who is dominate.

We crush our men. We crush their emotions into a powder, because crying is too 'feminine.' We mutilate their bodies, without their permission, and then tell them to suck it up, get over it. We tell them it isn't possible for them to be raped because they aren't a woman. It isn't possible for them to be abused by a woman because that somehow degrades them. Its wrong for a man to be smart, to be intelligent, etc. Its wrong for him to express anything other than sexual desire or anger. And even anger is supposed to be suppressed.

We've created this image of a man that has to be brave, powerful, idealistically masculine. What is masculinity?

The dictionary defines masculinity as 'The quality or condition of being masculine. Something traditionally considered to be characteristic of a male.' And we, as a collective societal whole, have turned this into being tough, not crying, not saying 'I love you.' We've turned it into suppression. We've turned it into something so twisted.

But we, as women, want a man who can open up, one who can express himself. Then we turn around and tell him to "man up," "be a man," "grow a pair," etc. We are just as guilty of tearing the male gender down as the rest of the Patriarchy.

We, as women, destroy our sons, our brothers, our husbands, etc. We claim to want them to be able to "open up" and be vulnerable, but we take that vulnerability and turn it against them. I've watched my girlfriends do this to their husbands. I've listened to them brag about the verbal guttings.

There is no equality if we are still denying it to someone else.

Take a moment to read this article and watch the video. I, personally, can't wait for this movie to come out. I want to start working on building up not just my own gender, but the Male gender. I want to help our Men get back to being themselves, not the idealistic "male" we have tried to shoehorn them into being.

http://www.policymic.com/articles/54105/the-one-thing-all-men-feel-but-never-admit

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Stoplights are a Go.

I was on StumbleUpon (one of my favorite websites) and came across this concept for a new stoplight. I find the idea intriguing and think it would help with traffic quite a bit, because you'll know exactly how much time is being spent while at a stoplight.

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The concept is simple as you can see. The hourglass shows how much 'sand' is left before the color changes. In the case of a yellow light it shows you how much time is left before you are either able to go or how much time you have to stop.

However, this thought on time swiftly followed the traffic lights leaving me wondering if traffic lights that show how time runs out would be a good idea after all?

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I can't imagine life without time. I can't imagine not having an i-phone or a clock or a computer somewhere near by to tell me what time of day it is. What did our ancestors do before they began marking the passing of time with sundials? Did they worry over all the things we worry over now? Did they imagine their time, their lives, slipping like sand through a vast hourglass, slowly disappearing?

We have a tendency to see time as a finite thing. A thing that ends. And it does, in a sense. For all of us the clock will eventually cease to tick, the sand cease to fall, the sun cease to set. We end, therefore, for us, time ends.

Time however is immeasurable. It is like taffy, pulled out into endless ropes of forever. It pulls further and further. We do not have the capability to even begin to comprehend the infinite amount of time there is stretching out before us. Yawning out like a black chasm, an endlessly long tunnel.

I think that makes it scary. Time will go on. Life will go on. We won't. We will end. Everything ends. But even after everything is gone, there will still be time. In the abyss of everything there will always be time.

Monday, April 01, 2013

A Fool, A Day

I should know better than to argue with fools. Especially on the day of Fools. Does this day give them super powers or just make them EXTRA stupid? Just curious.

If being Liberal is wrong, then I willingly embrace it. Last I checked believing in the Freedom of the Individual didn't make me a Satanist or a Liberal Pig. It made me a human being!

Why do we put labels on ourselves? Why do we feel the need to do that? It makes no sense to me. We are all HUMAN. What labels are needed? What does it matter what I believe and what I don't?

I'm not sorry that I believe in Equal Rights and I don't understand how that makes me wicked.

I'm not sorry that I believe EVERYONE should have the right to Health Care, Education, Marriage, Religion, etc. And I don't understand how that can be so wrong. I don't think I'll ever understand. I don't think I WANT to understand. I want to continue believing in what I believe is right.

I see nothing wrong with being who you are in the supposed "Land of the Free." You know, the one that says I have the right to LIFE, LIBERTY and the Pursuit of HAPPINESS?

Thursday, December 06, 2012

The Girl in the Head Scarf

Up until now I have been keeping this to myself, but a few things recently have really made me think and when I think I have to write. So here it is.

I have recently converted to Islam. Or, at the very least, attempted to. I'm not very good at it, in my personal opinion. Of course, I've always been a little too independent for religion to begin with. I don't think I was a very good Christian either. So far, in my religious experiences I seem to have made a much better Atheist. Beside the point of course.

The biggest part of my conversion is my searching for something to believe in. I may be a Muslim forever, I may revert back to Atheism. I may decide to practice Judaism. Allah alone knows the answer to that. And I truly believe He knows the answer.

Does this seem very odd? I'm sure it does. With all the times I have ranted against God it seems silly to have this "eleventh hour" conversion. I'll admit that it seems odd to me as well, considering that I truly believe God and Allah are the same being. I refuse to attempt to explain it really. I have just decided this is the path I'm going to try and I'm going with it.

This also explains why I have been posting a few different things about racism recently. Because this is something I've been experience since I started wearing the hijab. Yes, I am wearing the hijab as part of my conversion. And something strange happened when I started doing that. I felt more comfortable as myself and everyone around me became more uncomfortable.

Former co-workers have threatened to run me over with their cars, men in Mexican restaurants say not so nice things about my "turban," and, most recently, random strangers drive past me shouting at me that I am a "damn towel-head." Former co-workers have embraced this newest me (as I am constantly evolving), offered to protect me, random strangers have invited me to come and speak with them at Mosque and there has been encouragement. In truth, it has been a bit of a polarizing experience.

I knew there would be resistance. This isn't the first time I have donned the hijab. Though the first time was in high school, in solidarity with a Muslim friend who was run out of town, and as a social experiment. And part of this is a social experiment. Life is a social experiment. Beside the point of course.

I knew that I would find out who my real friends were. Though it has been a bit painful. Some of the people I thought I cared about turned out to be the enemy. But I'm still here. And I am still wearing my hijab.

I've also come to the conclusion that Christians in the US (obviously if you are Christian and reside in another country this doesn't necessarily apply) have NO clue what they are talking about when they speak of "persecution." You've never been persecuted unless you've walked in someone else's shoes. Which is what I'm doing now. It is part of the refining fire, as the Bible says.

I'm scared, but I'm elated. I like pushing the boundaries, but I am afraid to go too far. Am I a freak? I suppose time alone will tell.

Saturday, August 04, 2012

Dear Mr. President

August 01st, 2012

Dear Mr. President,

It's a funny (as in weird) time right now, don't you think? All this insanity with your upcoming election (I am confident in your abilities as you can see) and the world is all a stage (as Shakespeare once said) set with chessmen. In the end it's kind of like that, a political checkmate with more than a chessboard at stake. Of course chess players don't usually play for keeps.

Mr. President, I am going to be honest, I'm not sure why I am writing you. My previous letter (before I was married I sent you a glittery Paris themed card) had a point. I wanted to tell you how much I supported you. I still support you (and not just because you were the first president I got to vote for). But this wasn't really going to be about that.

We're moving, not just as a country. Moving towards something ill-defined and frightening. I'm afraid, sir. Afraid that we're moving not for the better. We (the collective "we") have grown so lazy, prejudiced, paranoid and irrational. I feel like I'm trapped in the collective body of a rabid dog. I resist, but get pulled in again. It seems insane because it is.

Frankly, Mr. President, I could care less about your religious beliefs. The constitution (last I checked) said nothing about religion. I care that you have morals; compassion, honesty, etc. I don't care if you were born overseas or not (not that I believe you were, but I hear this ALL the time at work) because you were born to American citizens so it wouldn't matter anyway.

What I care about is you visiting the Colorado victims. I care about you paying the same amount of taxes I do. I care about you donating your Nobel Peace prize money. I care about you fighting for equal pay for equal work.

I care about you standing up for GLBTQ rights. I care about those things, Mr. President. I don't care if you worship Buddha or Krishna or Zeus for that matter. I do care if you use your power for good rather than "evil." Be Luke not Vader (well at the beginning Vader, you can be Vader overthrowing the Emperor. Huh, the Emperor could be Romney or big business and you could be Vader throwing them over the railing... Somehow I don't think I'll be getting a job creating your ads any time soon).

I'm sorry I ramble so, Mr. President.

I'm sorry I don't have more money. I want to donate. I want to have a chance to have dinner with you. I want to be more than one voice, but it's very hard being an adult, don't you agree?

I want so many things! I want my freedom. I want my health. I want my liberty and to pursue my happiness. I want to be a part of this so-called "Great Nation."

In truth, I just want to be happy. I want more than what I've been told I should want.

I hope I haven't bored you to tears, sir. I hope you and yours are doing well. I hope you continue the good fight, even if letters from supporters stop coming. Even if it looks bleak. There are people, like me, who can't afford Mr. Romney, sir. Especially those who think he is a good option.

Please beat him. Please continue to be the kind and wonderful human being you are. And please say a prayer (if you believe in that, I don't really anymore) for me.

In all sincerity and with great respect,
Sarai Smith
(formerly, Sarai Lillie)

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Frustrated.

There are so many things I've been wanting to say and I keep holding it in, because I'm so afraid to piss people off. I know, right? Sarai, afraid to piss someone off? You'd never know it from this blog, would you?

There is so much I hold back, however. Things I type and read over, before I delete it all. I've been doing this my whole life, censoring myself. Censoring myself because of fear, because of my longing to be accepted for who I am. But I'm not giving myself, I'm giving a version of me. A version that I don't like very much.

I don't like this coward, the one who demurely let's people run over her.
I don't like this girl that I feel I've become. I'm a lot more confrontational than I used to be, but even now I back off from a fight.

I am a Libra. I am supposed to bring balance. I am supposed to be able to see the two sides of every story. And I do see both sides. But I can't make others see what it is I am seeing. No matter what I may do. I feel unbalanced, like a scale tipping too far over.

I am a Dragon by birth. I shouldn't be afraid of anything. I should be self-confident and arrogant. This dragon has been beaten to the point of submission and I've been tamed, shamed, into being this person that I am.

It makes my stomach hurt, just thinking about it. It makes me want to throw up when I think of causing a confrontation. But it also makes me sick to censor myself any longer.

I can't even be myself in my own home. Not because of Donnie, he would let me say and do what I want really.

Haven't I hidden myself long enough?

I live in so much fear. The fear that I'll say too much, or not enough. That I am failing everyone around me. Feelings I can't explain or name. This bitterness that wells up and threatens to choke me sometimes.

And that bitterness is what I try to keep to myself outside of this blog. Outside of my bedroom, I am attempting to be happy and go-lucky. Holly Go-lightly in the Modern Age.

I am bitter.
I am imperfect.
I am what I am!

In this spirit, I suppose I should get on with the topics I was going to discuss. Including, but not limited to the following article...



http://www.theblaze.com/stories/he-got-what-he-deserved-texas-dad-beats-his-daughters-molester-to-death/


You don't even have to read the article to know what it's about, really. Since the link states the article's subject. However, I went ahead and read it. Especially since someone on my Facebook posted it. She seemed to believe that this was a perfectly okay thing to do, as did most of her friends. I disagree.

Firstly, when you read the article, you see that the father left his four-year-old daughter alone. In a horse barn. Completely unaware that anything could be happening until he heard her screaming.

Re-read that paragraph. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Who, in their right mind, leaves their four-year-old child ALONE in a public place? That is not to say that the father deserved to see his daughter being assaulted. No one deserves to be assaulted and no one should have to walk in on that. However, what the fuck was he THINKING?! Or not thinking as the case apparently is.

Also, I hate that everyone is hailing him as a hero. He isn't a hero. He is a murderer. Did the man deserve to die for trying to rape a four-year-old child? Yes. But that is up to the courts to decide, not a man who took justice into his own hands. I can understand that he was probably blinded by his rage, anyone sensible person should be. That still doesn't give him the right to murder. We have laws in this country for a reason.

He is going to go to jail. He murdered someone. He is going to go to jail. If he is lucky, it won't be a long sentence. If he is unlucky, he'll be put to death. First degree murder is punishable with death in Texas. Anyone who is even VAGUELY familiar with Texas knows how giddy they are when they have the opportunity to put someone to death, guilty or innocent.

The other thing that I am really upset about is all this crap about Socialism.

Newsflash:
Social Security is a product of Socialism, but we are so set on NOT losing that.
Public Schools are a product of Socialism. Heaven forbid we had to pay for private school or *gasp* homeschool!

Personally speaking, I firmly believe in this:
"The Socialist Party U.S.A. That party believes in what is called “Democratic Socialism," defined as 'a political and economic system with freedom and equality for all, so that people may develop to their fullest potential in harmony with others.' The party further states that it is 'committed to full freedom of speech, assembly, press, and religion, and to a multi-party system' and that the ownership and control of the production and distribution of goods 'should be democratically controlled public agencies, cooperatives, or other collective groups'.(http://www.u-s-history.com/pages/h1669.html)"

I don't see anything wrong with National Healthcare. It is the same as Social Security. We'd get a little more taken out of our paychecks each week to go towards healthcare. Big fucking deal! Other countries have been doing this for YEARS. This horrific practice of "socialist medicine" has worked brilliantly for several other countries. So much so that many Americans immigrate to those countries so they can afford to stay healthy. Namely, Canada.

I don't understand this belief that Obamacare is wrong because it is socialist. Many people who couldn't afford healthcare can have it now! I think that's a good thing, being one of several MILLION people who can't afford medicine that we need desperately.

I don't understand all this hatred for Obama either.

He has helped produce new jobs, he has tried to help straighten out this whole "men are still paid more than a woman in the same position," he has come out for Homosexual marriage, etc. He has done SO MANY GOOD THINGS, I don't understand how people can bitch about him so.

But maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm wrong. I always am, apparently.

Oh well, enough ranting. I'm going to go read a nice book and maybe go for a drink. I have errands to run anyway.

Wednesday, February 09, 2011

If all else fails...

Make your waiter blush horribly.

Which is exactly what I did last Friday night (the name of a Katy Perry song).

Kid, L.E.D and I went drinking. It happened. And we have discovered that when L.E.D and I have been drinking we get silly. (The Friday night before this last one we had played Miss Merry Mack at our table, to my everlasting humiliation.) Okay, I get silly. Very silly and very unscripted.

Waiter Blush #1:
I ordered a Frozen Mudslide. Tastes just like a chocolate milk shake and is even better because you get a buzz. Plus, the glass looks gorgeous until you stir. Anyway, I always get a spoon so I can eat the whipped topping. With said spoon I scooped up said whipped topping and popped all of it into my mouth. Yes, my mouth was full of creamy white stuff.

Our waiter gave me a look. I mean, I just took a whole spoonful of whipped cream in one bite, I'm surprised more people weren't staring. My response to the staring?
"You know you like seeing me with white stuff in my mouth."

Did I mean for that to slip out? No, but I think the whipped cream and liquor lubed things up and out comes Miss Unscripted and Inappropriate.

Waiter Blush #2:
Our waiter convinces me that I should order a Sauza Gold Margarita as it is on special. I say, sure why not? What's the worst that could happen right?

Well, I chugged it. Yep. Took a sip to taste it and then downed the rest. Well I did it a little quickly and choked a little. At that moment he comes up and says,
"You know you are supposed to chew before you swallow."

And who should make a guest appearance right then? Miss Unscripted and Inappropriate. I reply with all the wit of a 6 year old.
"That depends on what you are trying to swallow."

He not only blushed so bad that he had to walk away from our table, he also face palmed. That's right, who is the girl? Me.

There you have it, the adventures of Sarai and her friends when they have been drinking. By the way, Frozen Mudslides are the bomb! I may, or may not, be a little in love with them. Just sayin'.

In fact here is a picture of one, not the exact same kind as the one I had (mine was cooler, just sayin').
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Also, if you have the desire to make one of these babies at home here is a handy-dandy recipe.
2 oz Svedka® vanilla vodka
2 oz Kahlua® coffee liqueur
2 oz Bailey's® Irish cream
6 oz vanilla ice cream

Blend alcohol with ice-cream. Serve in a frosted glass.

Okay, now that I have posted all of that about drinking and partying (did I mention the gay bar dance scenes afterward? Or the brand new high heels I got?) I want to go out. Too bad it is the middle of the week and I have to work on Friday.

Well, that is all from me for now. Hope you enjoyed my craziness.

I am Sarai, this is my blog and I am out like my bottle of Vanilla Vodka.

Sunday, February 06, 2011

Blinding

Today's song is by Florence and the Machine, one of my all time favorite groups that I only recently discovered last year. And this is my all time favorite song by them. In fact, I'm going to tell you all about my first experience with this song, whether you like it or not. :P

My first real experience with Florence, was standing in my sister's bedroom. I had heard two or three other songs before now, but had been a little unimpressed. I was generally apathetic to the whole group.

I was standing in Hannah's bedroom. It was messy and we were standing on opposite sides of her bed. Noodle, her cat, was lying on the bed.

"You have to hear this song," she says.

She turns on "Lungs" by Florence and the Machine and selects the track. She turns it up.

At first it is quiet and unremarkable. Then a shiver starts and I feel the room coming alive.

As Florence says, "Felt it in my fists, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids." I felt it too. It was as if someone had set a poem of mine to music. It was as if the music was pouring into me and expanding outward.

I could feel it; physically, emotionally, metaphorically, etc...; pounding in my chest and my feet and my fingertips. I was haunted and a scream filled my lungs, but it fled through my pounding chest.

I don't know how else to explain it.

Maybe I'm too emotional, maybe I am insane. All I know is that I experience music like it is a sexual experience, like I'm meeting God on some Nirvana inspired plane, like everything I am and will ever be is that one song.

So, without further ado, turn your speakers up, let the video load and then let the song pulse through you.