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| l Sunday, September 29, 2002 |
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Please don't lynch me!
I was chatting to Faithgirl. For a LONG time. AIM is evil sometimes. And because I spent so long on there, her update won't come until tomorrow night... she said it'd be there by morning. So she asked me to "tell people i'll update tommorow evening, k?" So... you have been told. <ducks for cover> :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 8:15 PM [x] :: |
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Because women's work is never done and is underpaid or unpaid or boring or repetitious
and we're the first to get fired and what we look like is more important than what we do and if we get raped it's our fault and if we get beaten we must have provoked it and if we raise our voices we're nagging bitches and if we enjoy sex we're nymphos and if we don't we're frigid and if we love women it's because we can't get a real man and if we ask our doctors too many questions we're neurotic and/or pushy and if we expect childcare we're selfish and if we stand up for our rights we're aggressive and unfeminine and if we don't we're typical weak females and if we want to get married we're out to trap a man and if we don't we're unnatural and because we still can't get an adequate safe contraceptive but men can walk on the moon and if we can't cope or don't want a pregnancy we're made to feel guilty about abortion and... for lots of other reasons we are a part of the women's liberation movement -- Joyce Stevens :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 3:26 PM [x] :: |
| l Saturday, September 28, 2002 |
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 Who's your inner singer-songwriter? Take the quiz! |
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Wow. It feels like an age since I last posted anything here... and it has been over a week since I've made a post of any consequence. And I'm trying to avoid the temptation to recap the time step-by-step, because to do that would be very long and, no doubt, very boring for anyone who's reading this. So I'll make a list-thing of random notes and thoughts that I would normally have made into a longer Blog entry.
Random Thoughts on a Smurfy Week
Lisa, the penfriend I've been writing to for over half my life, left earlier... she stayed two nights. Not counting when she arrived at 3am <shudder> That was EARLY (I've gotten out of the habit of being online until 4.30am, and yes, it was early once again <g>). But I was *so* nervous (and excited) when she arrived... I think I'd cope better if it was one of the people reading this blog, actually. Mostly because... I don't know... I guess because we've kind of "talked" before. Until she rang to give me a day to arrive on, I'd never actually spoken to her, either in a chatroom or via the phone. It was all email and snail-mail. I guess because I've always had the power of delete and white-out... it added to the nerves. And it showed at 3am. But it's been good to get to know her in Real Life. And it was good that she left at 12noon, because that's a more decent hour. She had to get used to us Victorians, though... the AFL Grand Final is today, so everyone's eating, sleeping, breathing football. My team, Brisbane Lions (I used to go for Fitzroy, but they merged with the Brisbane Bears) are playing my father's team, Collingwood Magpies. Dad's way more obsessive than I am, but I still hope my team wins. Fitzroy was always at the bottom of the ladder, and Brisbane won last year, too, so I'm basking in the glory of barracking for a winning team for the first time in my life. My 21st went very well indeed. I got some fabulous prezzies... including BtVS season 3 on DVD (although I'm yet to get a chance to watch them). I had a great time with the family, and I won't bore you all with the details <g> But Mum and Dad didn't really do the total embarrasing photo-thing... they actually put together an album of my life, instead of the board-thing, and it was actually rather sweet. We got everyone who came to sign the back. And I'm not going to ramble on for days here, because it's 12.39pm and I might be able to catch people in Babble Chat if I leave this computer and go to the other one. And I don't know what I'm going to do about the 200+ emails I'm expecting to be in funkypurplesmurf@yahoo.com (which is where all the Yahoo Groups go... and yes, they're all B/A)... I've got a feeling I'll look at auba, abwildhorses and BA_Fluff and leave the rest, somehow. I'm going to load this fairly soon after I post this, so go look here to look at the wonderful layout Faithgirl sent me. I'd use it here, but I think that the Blog*Spot ad would ruin it a little. It'll come into use in a couple of weeks, though.... I'm planning on some changes etc. then. :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 12:53 PM [x] :: |
| l Monday, September 23, 2002 |
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Oh, fuuuck. I've got 57 unread messages in my Yahoo Groups email inbox... and all my lists are on Daily Digest. Gulp.
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I feel like I should post something, and I have all these random bits and pieces that can go under the title of Random Thoughts on a Smurfy Weekend, but I don't have long and all that jazz. But they will make their way here... eventually... I swear :)
And Faithgirl just sent me the MOST amazing prezzies EVER (and this is from the girl who got AU$500 from her grandparents) and I'll worship her for some time to come. Trust me on this. :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 9:43 PM [x] :: |
| l Thursday, September 19, 2002 |
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Sometimes I fit in perfectly with my family. And sometimes our differences raise their ugly heads and bite me in the arse.
An example... tonight on the ABC there's a documentary about the National Geographic going back to find The Afghan Girl -- you know, the girl with those eyes. Mum and I were talking about this, and I commented that on Saturday at 7.30pm on SBS there is a program I'd like to watch -- a documentary I'm interested in. It's on the Berlin Blockade; when the USSR blocked all supplies from the West from entering West Berlin in an effort to claim the entirety of the city for the Soviet Block. It was the blockade that eventually caused the Berlin Wall to come about, and it's one of those periods in history I'm fascinated with. The real tensions of the Cold War. But Mum just looked at me like I was crazy, and wanted to know why anyone would want to watch that. The wind's been howling here for a couple of days now; the chill factor is extreme, we've lit the fire again, and we have to have the dog inside or else she looks like she's auditioning for the tornado scene in The Wizard of Oz (she's small and goes flying very easily). Just don't go looking for updates for a while; I'm leaving for Melbourne in the morning (well, afternoon, but I won't be on again, I don't think) for the weekend. I'll be doing dinner and a film with Cat and Lizzie (although Cat won't make the film), then travelling by bus to my grandparents on the Saturday. We'll have the BBQ lunch on the Sunday, and then come home again on Monday. Lisa (the friend from Canada) will be arriving here on Wednesday, so hopefully I'll be able to update on Tuesday, because I don't want to be rude while she's here. So you'll have to live without my random comments until then. How *will* you cope?? Of course, the *real* question here is how will *I* cope without being able to update, given I jot down random thoughts all the time that could be made into entries... the novelty and addiction of this is yet to wear off ;) :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 8:13 PM [x] :: |
| l Wednesday, September 18, 2002 |
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hee. In the recently updated blogs bit on the Blogger home page, they had this blog sitting there... not much on the page yet, but I have to go back, because of the name. "The Darker Side of the Spoon"? Come on, Spoon refrence *and* Pink Floyd. What more could you want?
:: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 11:13 PM [x]
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My mother is now depressed.
She went shopping with me, to try and help me find a skirt and top. She’s also in the position of needing new clothing, but declared she couldn’t buy any of the outfits we saw. She’d worn them all before. We started in Just Jeans, although she’d had a warning in Myers of what was to come. She couldn’t believe the peasant tops that were back in fashion; she commented that she has pictures of me as a baby when she was wearing similar. Then she saw not only the tops, but also the skirts. It was worse in Sussan, where there was cheesecloth and frills and paisley galore. She said she still had some of the exact same tops in her wardrobe (and she did). It’s a good thing she’s a helluva lot smaller than me (she gets mistaken for an anorexic) because I’d be rather upset that all her old skirts and tops went into the dress-ups when we were children otherwise. But I got a nice outfit; I found a gorgeous denim skirt that falls to mid-calf and has a flair at the bottom. It’s a great fit on me. And I’ve got this nice pale blue top -- I'm going back for this cheesecloth one when my bank balance will handle it better. So the trip wasn’t too depressing for me -- the comment had other been made in the family that I was born in the wrong decade, as I love the clothing, music and TV shows of the 60s and 70s. And I’d have been very much at home in the Freedom Rides, or the civil rights marches... it’s *my* period in 20th Century history (the other period I study obsessively is the Holocaust, and I’m more than happy I didn’t live through that time). On other notes, my parents spent the afternoon still having problems scanning the photos, and I’ve been itching to fix it, because I know what to do about it. But they won’t let me, and I’m frustrated with them. This was me and Mum, I swear... :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 7:47 PM [x] :: |
| l Tuesday, September 17, 2002 |
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I just heard gunshots from down the street. Again. I live in a town of maybe 6000 in non-tourist season; it's not like the crime-rate is huge (in tourist season when the population is 60,000 between Christmas and New Years, that's another story) but there's the local drug-place down the road and... I just adore hearing the guns go off there. Really.
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I am *so* glad I'm only going to turn 21 the once.
We're organising the party -- which we're having at my grandparents on the Sunday (hence I won't be in Babble Chat next week, given that it's a six-hour drive to the grandparents place from here). I'm busy turning pale at the cost of this thing, and Mum and Dad won't let me contribute anything towards it (not that I could contribute much, but I want to pay what I can). They just say that I won't be getting a big gift or anything. Now, you might say this is well and good, but you don't know how much a minister gets paid. Let me just say that the poverty line and us are close acquaintances, and anyone who can tell me how the guys on 7th Heaven afford the clothes and lifestyle they have with all those kids on a standard minister's salary will get a round of applause from me (and tell me the name and address of the church who can give their minister a manse like that one... although I *am* used to the broke country ones...). Then there's the issue of the party itself. I *hate* being the centre of attention; I'm a wallflower by nature. I haven't had a proper party-thing in years; I used to have three friends over for cake and a movie from my tenth birthday until I turned fourteen, and I had two friends over for my sixteenth. I had a small gathering of about seven people for my eighteenth for a pizza lunch. And now I'm having my first family thing since we left Melbourne, with friends and I'm going to have to give a speech and... Ugh. I'm actually dreading it. Not to mention clothing. I hate clothes shopping, and I was on the phone to Lizzie and she's asking me what I'm wearing and how I'm going to do my hair and... this isn't stuff I think about. I have about three standard outfits for summer, and maybe five or six for winter. I hate shopping. I hate buying clothes. I hate having to try clothing on. And I'm realising that, since I haven't bought summer clothing in about three years, I'm going to have to do something with my wardrobe. At least there's *some* clothing I can see myself wearing in the shops for spring; usually there's none, hence my lack of shopping for summer clothing. I can usually get at least one or two items over winter that suit me, but summer clothing... I'm not the smallest girl. I wear size 16-18 tops, and 14-16 bottoms (depending on how the shop sizes things). I'm a DD cup size. I hate the look of the frumpy stuff, and I hate how most of the fashionable stuff looks on me. I try on top after top, and they're all too tight across the boobs. I don't like how short they are, or I don't like the length of the sleeves (I like them to *have sleeves*; I'm very pale-skinned, and I burn easily). I don't even own a swimsuit, and in this country, that's a pretty rare thing. Add to that, the longest part of getting to the beach from where I live is putting the surf-board on the roof of the car, and... For a start, there's no way I'll wear something small and skin-tight. Then there's the issue of my bust; I can never be comfortable. Have you seen the sort of bathers they put in-built cups in?? Yuh-huh, I'm buying them. And everything else squashes me so flat and no support and... nope. I'd have to buy a two-piece, and me wearing a two-piece is the best way to clear a beach; my figure *so* isn't going to *ever* get away with that. The skirts are all too short most of the time; I like a skirt to be below the knees. I love my ankle-length skirts, and I like them to be A-line. I hate having a slit in the back. I like them to be loose-ish. I *hate* elastic waists (they sit funny on my hips), and refuse to buy them. So I'll try and compromise, because rarely are the items I like in fashion (yes, obviously, I'm fussy, but I know what suits me and what I feel comfortable in). But then, as I try on outfit after outfit, my self-esteem plunges to new lows and I walk out of the shop feeling like dirt with today's expectations on how women should look, or with an outfit I hate and will wear maybe three times, if I wear it at all. But I *think* (I haven't had a chance to look that closely at the items) there's some clothing that looks semi-okay in shops at the moment. So fingers crossed. My grandfather, who lives up on the NSW coast, closer to Queensland than the Victorian border, sent me a package. I knew what it was; he'd called asking what I wanted (normally he'd just send $20 and a card) since it was my 21st, and I told him just a nice silver chain. But because I wasn't going to be around here *on* my birthday, I have to call him before then to say thanks. When he was bound to ask if it was all right, if I like it etc. etc. So do I open the darn thing before, or do I simply say that it was lovely without having seen it (not that the answer differs in any case). I've wound up opening it already, and now I feel guilty because I opened presents before my birthday. I just hate the fuss with birthdays. I don't usually feel like celebrating getting older, given that my life has been in a mess I can't seem to get out of for years now. Last year I blocked the knowledge from my mind (which caused a rather large riff to spring up between me and a friend, whose birthday is the same as mine, because in blocking the date from my mind I'd blocked hers from it, too), and the only reason I'm recognising it this year as it draws nearer is because of this party-thing. Then to top all of this off, I walked out today and Mum and Dad were printing up something. Something with a lot of colour, that looked suspiciously like photographs, and told me to get lost. THEY WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO DO THE EMBARRASING PHOTO DISPLAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I just can't wait for it all to be over and done with. Although with the photos, it's actually quite amusing. Mum and Dad were having problems with the scanner, and I knew I could fix it but they didn't want me to see what photos they've got :p In other stuff, saw the Friends finale last night. Can't wait for the new season to start in the USA; this is one show that's managed to keep me interested across the years. And for those of you out there who tell us to Get Over It (and let's just say it again: get over me not getting over B/A): I always thought that Ross/Rachel was dead and buried, and HA!! Ner-ner, anything's possible. And I'm acting like a three-year-old now, so let's just leave this subject... :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 8:56 PM [x] :: |
| l Sunday, September 15, 2002 |
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Wheeeee!!! I just got a phone call from a girl I've been writing to via snail-mail in Canada since 1991... she's in Australia at the moment, and she'll be coming down my way on the 25th of September. This is *so* cool ;) I'm just a little excited, because I didn't really know when she'd be coming and it was actually the first time I'd ever heard her voice and I can't believe it's actually finally going to happen!!!!!!
Of course, if the parentals turn this into a source of stress, I'll never speak to them again. Because they're going to. I just know it. :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 5:57 PM [x] :: |
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I'm in a household of grumpy people with headaches and headcolds. Think of me.
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I don't really watch action films. I never have. They're not really my scene. But on friday night, I half-watched Goldeneye.
In my post on September 11, I mentioned that when I watched the planes crash into the towers, when I watched as people jumped to their death, as I watched the buildings collapse -- I mentioned how I had trouble coming to terms with the idea that these were real people, that real people were dying and that this wasn't an action film. Yet watching Pierce Brosnan the other night, all I could think about was how many innocent people James Bond was killing. When James and Natalia were escaping the Russian military (I turned in late... see my Friday night viewing schedule) all I could think was that those men were just following orders to protect national security; that to them, James Bond was, in essence, a terrorist. I couldn't watch him crush through the police cars in the tank (not to mention plow through the civilian traffic) without thinking that the police were just looking after public safety. I didn't think that way during the finale; the hirelings there had to know the place just spelt E-V-I-L. But I guess it's something that's changed for me. Especially with how much air-time *that* footage is getting at the moment. It seems that September 11 did, in fact, change somethings for me. Who woulda thunk? Now to decide between The World is Not Enough and The Spy Who Shagged Me tonight. Decisions, decisions. :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 3:59 PM [x] :: |
| l Saturday, September 14, 2002 |
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Friday night TV is second only to Monday evenings.
The Vicar of Dibley starts my evening at 8pm on the ABC... love that show. Dawn French proves that large women *can* still have fun -- I love that woman. I worship that woman. She’s bloody brilliant. SBS at 8.30pm... documentary time. Last night was Seen But Not Heard on the wives of some of the undocumented Mexican workers killed on September 11, who aren’t even on the statistics. No documents to prove they ever existed. That’s the kind of September 11 shows I’ll watch. World news at 9.30pm. I set up the Queer as Folk video as that’s on, as my family laugh at me for watching a gay soap for the hot nekkid guys. I say that’s as good a reason to watch them as anything. They’re hot and they’re naked. And making out with each other. Like a girl needs anything else. While the double episode of Queer as Folk tapes away in the lounge room, I sit and drool over Wil Anderson and laugh with them all as they mock the nation on The Glass House. After that finishes I may or may not watch the reso of Queer as Folk, but then, I may decide that sleep matters. It goes until midnight, and I have to get any odd jobs done on Saturday morning before Babble Chat. It all depends. Commercial TV? Who needs it! And I *have* to post here the transcript of the opening monologue from Thursday’s Backberner. I have to. It won’t be until next Thursday, but it was brilliant. He spoke on the over-exposure of 9/11 in the media... in particular, the footage of the planes hitting the towers. Why traumatise everyone again? Perhaps we should listen to what the RSL have been saying for generations and next year, take a page from their books. Lest we forget. :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 12:19 PM [x] :: |
| l Thursday, September 12, 2002 |
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Every day, 86,400 people die of hunger. Approximately 64,800 of them are children under the age of five.
Every day, the people of Afghanistan -- especially those who live in the more remote areas -- live in fear of fundamentalists. Every day, people die in civil strife in Kashmir, in Papua New Guinea, in East Timor. Every day, girls are subjected to Genital Mutilation (once known as female circumcision). Every day, women in Africa are subjected to barbaric fundamentalist laws. Every day, people in Israel live in fear of suicide bombings. Every day, yet more people on the African continent are infected with the HIV virus. Every day, more children in the world die from being forced to drink polluted water than people were killed in the attacks on the World Trade Center. And yet, when I woke up this morning, I still turned on the TV to make sure there wasn't any further terrorist attacks on the USA to mark the 1st anniversary. In other news, I found a DVD copy of The Princess Bride today. Wheeeeeeee!!!! Faithgirl asked what I wanted to screencap... this film would be a good start. I’ve been thinking of moving this blog over to www.geocities.com/funkypurplesmurf and having a PB theme or something... but that won’t happen for a long while yet. Westley (swoon... yes, I have a thing for guys with that name) is fighting Fezzik... I love this film. I love this film *so* much. So I get to watch M*A*S*H, Daria AND The Princess Bride in the one day. Bliss! :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 3:36 PM [x] :: |
| l Wednesday, September 11, 2002 |
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Email from RAWA:
RAWA Statement on the anniversary of the September 11 tragedy RAWA joins with the rest of the civilized world in remembering the innocent lives lost on September 11th, as well as all those others lost to terrorism and oppression throughout the world. It is with great sadness that RAWA sees other people experiencing the pain that the women, children and men of Afghanistan have long suffered at the hands of fundamentalist terrorists. For ten long years the people of Afghanistan -Afghan women in particular- have been crushed and brutalized, first under the chains and atrocities of the "Northern Alliance" fundamentalists, then under those of the Taliban. During all this period, the governments of the Western powers were bent on finding ways to "work with" these criminals. These Western governments did not lose much sleep over the daily grind of abject misery our people were enduring under the domination of these terrorist bands. To them it did not matter so very much that human rights and democratic principles were being trampled on a daily basis in an inconceivable manner. What was important was to "work with" the religio-fascists to have Central Asian oil pipelines extended to accessible ports of shipment. Immediately after the September 11 tragedy American military might moved into action to punish its erstwhile hirelings. A captive, bleeding, devastated, hungry, pauperized, drought-stricken and ill-starred Afghanistan was bombed into oblivion by the most advanced and sophisticated weaponry ever created in human history. Innocent lives, many more than those who lost their lives in the September 11 atrocity, were taken. Even joyous wedding gatherings were not spared. The Taliban regime and its al-Qaeda support were toppled without any significant dent in their human combat resources. What was not done away with was the sinister shadow of terrorist threat over the whole world and its alter ego, fundamentalist terrorism. Neither opium cultivation nor warlordism have been eradicated in Afghanistan. There is neither peace nor stability in this tormented country, nor has there been any relief from the scourges of extreme pauperization, prostitution, and wanton plunder. Women feel much more insecure than in the past. The bitter fact that even the personal security of the President of the country cannot be maintained without recourse to foreign bodyguards and the recent terrorist acts in our country speak eloquent volumes about the chaotic and terrorist-ridden situation of the country. Why is it so? Why has the thunderous uproar in the aftermath of September 11 resulted in nothing? For the following reasons which RAWA has reiterated time and again:
2. For the past more or less twenty years, Osama bin Laden has had Afghan fundamentalists on his payroll and has been paying their leaders considerable stipends. He and Mullah Omar, together with a band of followers equipped with the necessary communication resources, can live for many years under the protection of different fundamentalist bands in Afghanistan and Pakistan and continue to plot against the people of Afghanistan and the rest of humankind. 3. The Taliban and the al-Qaeda phenomena, as manifestations of an ideology and a political culture infesting an Islamic country, could only have been uprooted by a popular insurrection and the strengthening and coming to power of secular democratic forces. Such a purge cannot be effected solely with the physical elimination of the likes of Osama and Mullah Omar. The "Northern Alliance" can never sincerely want the total elimination of the Taliban and the al-Qaeda, as such elimination would mean the end of the raison d'être of the backing and support extended to them by foreign forces presently dominant in the country. This was the rationale behind RAWA's slogan for the overthrow of the Taliban and al-Qaeda through popular insurrection. Unfortunately, before such popular insurrection could come about, the Taliban and al-Qaeda forfeited their positions to the "brethren of the 'Northern Alliance'" without suffering any crippling decimation. With their second occupation of Kabul, the "Northern Alliance" thwarted any hopes for a radical, meaningful change. They are themselves now the source and root of insecurity, the disgraceful police atmosphere of the Loya Jirga, rampant terrorism, gagging of democracy, atrocious violations of human rights, mounting pauperization, prostitution and corruption, the flourishing of poppy cultivation, failure of beginning to reconstruct, and a host of further unlisted evils, too many to enumerate. Oppression and crimes against women are rife in different forms throughout the country. RAWA has always maintained that the fundamentalists' rabid hatred of women as equal human beings -be they fundamentalists of the Jihadi brand or of the Taliban one- is not due merely to their unhealthy upbringing or morbid mind frame, but emanates from their religio-fascistic ideological world outlook. As long as such an ideology exists, propped up by military forces available at its disposal, neither crazed misogyny nor a myriad of shameful social evils associated with it can be eradicated. This is not a problem that can be dealt with by the creation of a "Ministry of Women's Affairs" nor by the presence of a couple of token women in high government positions. To hope for the attainment of freedom, democracy and equality within the framework of a corrupt, religion-based, ethno-chauvinistic system is either self-delusion or hypocrisy -or both. We find no happiness in the fact that RAWA's predictions in regard to the consequences of the re-domination of the "Northern Alliance" have once again been borne out. Those who claimed that the "Northern Alliance" were better than, and therefore preferable to, the Taliban must wake up and apologise to our people for their noxious sermons. The establishment of democracy and social justice can be possible only with the overthrow of fundamentalist domination as a prime precondition. This cannot be achieved without an organised and irreconcilable campaign of the women masses against fundamentalism, its agents and apologists. Some politically bankrupt entities who have no shame in grovelling to the "Northern Alliance" in the hope of securing positions and feathering their nests, label RAWA as "Maoist" and "radical" because of our decisive and irreconcilable stances and viewpoints. But does the current situation in the country prove the fallacy of RAWA's positions or do they give a slap in the face to the ladies and gentleman with the penchant for being colluding and mealy-mouthed? The assassinations of a vice president and a cabinet minister and the ban on investigating these murders, the discovery of mass graves, the banning of women singers and artists and showing of dancing on TV, the censorship of the media, arbitrary fatwas of kofr and apostasy against women, gang rapes of even expatriate women working for international NGOs, the disgusting campaign of making an idol out of Ahmad Shah Masoud, are these not enough to bring home the realisation that indulgence and permissiveness ! towards rabid dogs only serve to make them more ferocious? RAWA's experience in fighting fundamentalism, particularly during the past 10 years, motivates us to be all the more persistent in our attempts to mobilise women even in the most remote corners of our country. At the same time, we shall not desist from pursuing an irreconcilable policy towards fundamentalism and standing in solidarity with all pro-democracy forces. We staunchly believe that in addition to causing the tragic deaths of over 3,000 innocent Americans and non-Americans and the sorrow and bereavement of tens of thousands more, the monstrous terrorist attack of September 11 showed the world what a nefarious pestilence fundamentalism is; it showed the world the sort of inferno the peoples of Afghanistan, Iran, Algeria, Sudan and other such countries live in. Fundamentalism is the mortal enemy of civilised humanity; to address it demands the consolidated action of all freedom-loving nations of the world. The present "world anti-terrorism coalition" has been debased by innumerable ambiguities and impurities of purpose, motivation and objectives. The contradictions between world powers will spell its doom. Therefore, it behoves anti-fundamentalist individuals and organisations working for social justice the world over to draw together without hesitation to contain and ultimately stamp out, once and for all, the vermin of fundamentalism, so that the tragedy of September 11 will never be repeated, neither in America nor anywhere else. RAWA takes pride in the fact that up till now we have been able to establish contact with a considerable number of anti-terrorist organisations on all five continents and enjoy their moral and material support. However, for the purpose of waging a swifter and more encompassing fight against terrorism, it is necessary for such solidarity to be expanded and strengthened. In this connection we shake the hands of all freedom-loving individuals and organisations. We would like to avail ourselves of this opportunity to once again extend our heartfelt condolences to all those who lost their loved ones in the savage calamity of September 11, as well as to the friends and families of those innocent compatriots -for all we know, anti-Taliban and anti-"Northern Alliance"- who were blown to shreds by American aerial bombardment. We sincerely hope that a vast number of those who are bereaved and grieving for their loved ones will, sooner or later, join the ranks of the legions mobilising against fundamentalist fascism in their respective countries and on an international level. No to Al-Qaeda, No to the Taliban, No to the "Northern Alliance"! Long Live a Free, Democratic and Blossoming Afghanistan! Victory in the Decisive War to the Very End of Afghan Women Against Fundamentalism and for Democracy! Long Live International Solidarity Against Fundamentalist Terrorism! Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA) September 11, 2002 RAWA statement on the terrorist attacks in the US RAWA statement on the US strikes on Afghanistan RAWA's appeal to the UN and World community after the fall of Kabul RAWA standpoints on some burning issues of after the 9/11 tragedy RAWA Declaration on the occasion of International Human Rights Day, Dec.10, 2001 ===================================================== Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA) Mailing Address: RAWA, P.O.Box 374, Quetta, Pakistan Mobile: 0092-300-8551638 Fax: 001-760-2819855 E-mail: rawa@rawa.org Home Page: http://www.rawa.org Mirror site: http://rawa.fancymarketing.net :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 2:32 PM [x] :: |
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I was going to post this at the Babble Board, in response to Alley's September 11th thread. But looking through it, I'm not sure that I'm going to. So I'm going to post it here, because I wanted to do something on this page in memory of the attacks. I'm not sure about it, though. Please remember as you read this that I do realise what everyone must be going through, and I know that I cannot begin to comprehend the horror of those who live in New York or perhaps any part of America. But I am not an American.
---------------------- I'm not an American. I have long known that my country is *not* invincible, and that anything could happen here. I grew up reading the 'Tomorrow, When the War Began' books. But, at the same time, you never expect it to happen. I'm not an American. And as such, there is an element of remoteness from the event. I'd gone to bed on the 11th of September at around 10.30pm... Australian time, the first plane hit around 10.45pm. I did the maths at the time, and I must have just logged off the Internet when it happened. I couldn't sleep; I was bored and awake in bed, so around 11.30pm I turned on the radio. My usual radio station was just playing this dance shit, so I surfed the radio stations until I got this fuzzy reception on a talkback, which caught my attention because someone was blaming homosexuals and Muslims for something. This was during the Tampa-thing, and I thought they were talking about Illegal Immigrants, so I listened. And I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I wound up watching the TV until 3.30am or so, surfing the channels, all of which were showing the same thing, looking for different interviews. Trying to decide whether to wake my parents (I didn't, and they told me that end of the world or not they would have killed me for waking them up at that hour). Finding it somehow ironic when they went to interview Tom Clancy, who said he was going to write a similar story (and he did write one when a plane crashed into Congress and Jack Ryan became president by default) but thought it would be "too unbelievable". And somehow I still couldn't grasp what was happening. I'm not an American. I don't know anyone who worked in the towers. I was watching at an unbelievable hour of the morning, and all I could do was try and grasp that yes, these *were* people. These were people who were jumping out of the towers. That yes, these planes crashing into the towers had people on board... it kind of looked, from my removed distance, like one of those action films. Like 'Air Force One' or something. And I had to get my mind around that this wasn't some film; this was actually happening. I need people to connect, rather than a faceless mass. And yes, I cried buckets over the next week or so. I still cry when reading reports of the survivors and their families. I look at the dust-covered workers stumbling through the death-filled streets, or the wreckage of what was the WTC, and I can feel what was happening. But I still can't, looking at the twin towers in flames, grasp that image. Add onto this the fact that I was at one of the worst phases of my depression at the time. I actually spent the 12th of September (which is the day we Australians really went into shock, given the time differences) unable to watch the same images repeated on the TV (our day is your evening, remember, and nothing new was breaking... it was all the same stuff I had spent the night before watching) and my way of coping was actually to read 'Worlds of Longing' for the first time... I'd spent most of the evening before downloading it. But at the moment, as I sit here and type, I'm actually angry at our TV networks and their coverage. Because it's simply *too much*. It feels tacky; like their going for ratings, and milking it for all it's worth. Yes, I have read the newspapers, and I've watched the news reports. But I can't help but feel that if it was limited to extended news bulletins, that would be sufficient. But special after special after special (they started last week) just seems to be going into bad territory. I understand why it's getting the coverage it is, don't get me wrong. But sometimes I wonder at the taste. It's like having Ground Zero Boxer Shorts; they sell, but is it right? Yes, I think it's something that should be remembered. Over here, because the time difference is so great, at 8.47am Melbourne time motorists were asked to turn on their headlights, at the suggestion of the twin brother of one of the Australians killed in the attacks. The MCG lights were turned on at 8.30am, so they would be on fully by then, and houses turned on their porch lights. Church bells rang across the country. Rather than some ratings bonanza, that is what I call something tasteful. I having said that, I'm tempted to watch some of the specials; the one on Channel 7 tonight (9/11, with the footage from inside the towers, from the fire-fighters point of view) is tempting. And I'll watch at least one of the every-network footage "live from ground zero" on Wednesday evening, marking the anniversary as it happens. There's a part of me that doesn't want to watch the news, however, at 6pm unless it's being brought to us from Australia. Not "live from New York". Which might be a little hard, because there's hardly any news anchors left in this country. It's funny the way it goes... there's a mudslide in India that kills 10,000 people and it gets five seconds on the news a month after it happens, but this is on our TV every five minutes at the moment. And whilst I understand that this... this was manmade... that humans did this, not nature... but I have to say that they were still lives. And yet, this still feels so much more significant. A manmade "apocalypse" versus a natural disaster... but do the relatives of the 10,000 people who died feel any different to those who lost loved ones on the 11th of September? I know that I can never understand how the survivors feel; this has been brought back to me reading the papers this morning. I am not an American. Yes, this effected me, but when it comes down to the wire... I am not an American, nor will I ever be. And that fact shows when it comes to this anniversary. :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 1:51 PM [x] :: |
| l Tuesday, September 10, 2002 |
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I’m going to be brutally honest here.
You never, *ever* want to watch a film or TV show with me. I’m the stuff nightmares are made of. The woman in the cinema with the annoyingly loud laugh? That’s me. I’m the one you can hear laughing, sobbing... I don’t take phone calls, but that’s about the only good thing about me in a cinema. In all seriousness, the first time I saw Titanic? (And yes, I saw it at least seven times over six months in the cinema. I was 16, and it was Leonardo.) I started crying before the opening title, and I didn’t stop for about four hours after we left the cinema. It was while we were on a family vacation, and we went to McDonalds afterwards; I sat and cried into my cheeseburger. Seriously, I cried myself to sleep for about a week over that last image of them reunited... although wouldn’t you have hated to be Rose’s husband? You marry the girl, she bears your children, but the minute she dies? She goes straight to this one-night stand she had when she was a teenager. I cry at *anything* in the cinema -- as long as it isn’t too overdone. Although I have a very broad spectrum as to what *is* overdone. But, for example, I sit and laugh as Spock dies, with Kirk running and... very amusing. And this is coming from a Trekkie. I have asthma attacks from the sobbing in Love Story. Robin Williams always reduces me to tears. My brothers claim I cried on six separate occasions in The Lion King, although I maintain it was four. Maximum. And when I laugh, I laugh. I think I’ve gotten better when I’m in the cinema itself; I make an effort to control myself. But I can be horrid. I just don’t realise what I’m doing. I hide under the seat, too. I can’t count the number of times I’ve watched the Star Wars films (every weekend and every day of the school holidays for years), but I’m yet to see them in full, from start to finish. I always hide under the seat in the light sabre fights; either that or I leave the room, or hit fast-forward. Since 1997 I’ve been able to watch Obi Wan being cut down, but that was a long, hard battle throughout my life. And I’m yet to achieve that with any of the others. When I went to see Lady and the Tramp when I was six, you know the point where Lady is dragged off to the pound? I stood on my seat -- yes, you read that right -- and *screamed* at the screen that it wasn’t her fault. My mother nearly died. I hid under the seat when I saw the Big Bird Movie when I was three. Why am I typing this out? I was watching Almost Famous and, in the midst of all my sobbing, I inhaled a chunk of hair and started sobbing. I could just see the headlines. Girl Killed: Sobbed to Death over Film. Dubya and pretzels have nothing on me. Of course, having said all that, tonight’s episode of M*A*S*H is Abyssinia, Henry. Think of me at Australian EST 5pm... Mum and I will be sitting with a box of tissues between us sobbing our way through the episode. :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 12:51 PM [x] :: |
| l Sunday, September 08, 2002 |
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Why do I do this to myself? Was watching Almost Famous (I love that film) and started making a mental list. Then I stopped and started making a full list. A list of things I want for my computer:
I just can't afford the last three, and my computer doesn't want to give me the first <sigh> But then, from there, we would have:
Why would I name it Fool on the Hill? Listen to the Beatles song (or read the lyrics, whichever you prefer): Day after day, alone on a hill The man with the foolish grin Is keeping perfectly still. But nobody wants to know him, They can see that he's just a fool, And he never gives an answer. Okay, so the song in its entirety isn't fitting... but I think that the start is ;) In other news, because I'm going INSANE, I've just managed to get my Buddy list out of AIM (try doing that without a connection <shakes head>) and will now install AIM on my parents computer every time I go on there. Have changed my buddy icon slightly, so you should be able to tell which computer I'm on. If I get the patience to install the buddy icon every time. If I get the patience to install AIM every time. I still have the zipped file on the thing... just have to have the patience. I miss my own computer when I'm online. Completely miss it. I miss not having my episode transcripts on hand... not having the images... the WAVs... all the fanfiction on my harddrive... the way I can just go the icon on my toolbar and open my Buffy folder, or all the applications I use on a regular basis. I miss not having the easy-to-use icons I always use at the top of the page in word. I miss my favourites folder with all my links, even if I've put some (most?) of them here. I miss not having the colours I like, the icons I like... and when Labrynth gets the B/A desktop finished, I won't be able to get that until I've got the connection back. Waaahhh!!!! I miss having my wallpapers that I change every five minutes because I can't decide which one I like best. I miss having the Homer Simpson "doh!" and "aww, crap!" as the alerts instead of those crappy Windows standard noises. I miss being able to use winamp with its lovely B/A skins. I miss being able to use winamp FULL STOP (not on the other computer at all). I miss hearing "will you do me the honour of reading this letter" in Colin Firth's yummy voice whenever I get new email. I miss having individual emails from all of the lists instead of this crappy daily digest thing. I miss the lack of tension between my parents and myself when I use only my own computer. Okay. Whine over. It's actually probably pretty illogical that I miss the computer so much... I mean, my parents have this wonderful HP Pavillion which all this memory and speed... okay, so we bought it in 1999 and so it's rather outdated, but my own computer is a mismash of cheap computer parts bung together to make a workable machine. It's all home-brand stuff, nothing to make anyone swoon... but it's *my* P.O.S. It's the computer I can download all my own stuff onto without having to worry about what will be said if a new program is noticed (AIM cause some roof-hitting at one point). I can take up several hundred MB on Buffy stuff the parents call me crazy for, and not worry because it's not their computer. I can spend however long on and not have to worry about getting off for other family members. And I said the whine was over. Sorry. Just having to adjust to being offline on my own computer for the first time in too long. I saw an article the other day about Robin Williams and his Internet addiction... he said once you've had the speed, you'll never go back (talking about hotels where they didn't have DSL). Well, you can say that once you have cyber-space independence, it's bloody hard to adjust back to being dependent!! I want to meet my doppelganger living in Canada... Leelee says she saw a PURPLE CAR (my mother's car is purple!! Even if I wasn't a Purple Smurf, there's a connection) with SPOON in big writing over the rear window. Although I think there's a band called Spoon, too... which is up there in terms of craziness with the fact that there's a song by some band out there called Attack of the Killer Monks?? I find that very amusing. The things you learn from Google. I've been listening to a BIG list of CDs that Cat in Melbourne has burned for me. Wheee!! She burned copies of my Beatles CDs and my Pearl Jam from Katowice, Poland, 16.6.00 (another thing for my 'wish list' of things I'd buy if I had a million dollars... all the Beatles albums), and I got her to burn copies of Ben Harper and Ani Difranco. As well as a Janis, Alex Lloyd, and Don McLean. I love doing the CD-swap-burn thing. I'm trying to evict from my mind the recurrent idea of rewriting Pink Floyd's The Wall album. It's not going away! I've had it in the back of my mind for an age... ever since I wrote a little filk-thing for Another Brick in the Wall, part 2. I think I wrote on it when I posted it..? I'm on my own computer as I write this (bliss! Comfort!) and don't have it handy. Anyway, the little filk-thing went: We don't need no stinkin' Joss No Marti, Tim or David, too. No Buffy/Spike there on the TV. Network, leave our show alone! Hey, network, leave our show alone! All in all, it's just another hole in the plot. All in all, it's just another hole in the plot. We don't need no stinkin' Joss No Marti, Tim or David, too. No Angel/Cordy there on the TV. Network, leave our show alone! Hey, network, leave our show alone! All in all, it's just another hole in the plot. All in all, it's just another hole in the plot. I was bitter at the WB when I wrote it <sheepish> but I still think that if I had the patience I could rewrite the entire album regarding season 6/3. But I don't have the patience. So it won't happen. But it's an idea that won't go away, in any case. Silly brain that won't forget an idea. Okay, a question for any Aussies who have heard Avril 's album... I've heard that the sound is very similar (read: pretty much exactly) like what Killing Heidi were doing last year... is it true? Will help me to decide to add it to the VERY long list of albums I want to buy (it can't jump the queue to above Motor Ace no matter what, though). I was lying in bed last night. 11pm. One thing having no connection on my own computer has done is get my sleep patterns back to a healthy, normal schedule. Anyway, I'm lying there... and I get this urge. This urge to read. Not to read just anything, but to read Bleed. Yes, Bleed by Ducks and Vatrixsta. Not just any parts of Bleed, mind you, this part in particular: "When I said... I couldn't remember the last time I was happy?" The flood of emotion spilled down her cheek to splash on the soft comforter -- was that his? -- between them. "I do remember. It was... right before my 17th birthday. Before we..." she sniffled softly, and looked away. "We'd been patrolling, and... we sat against that mausoleum in Sunny Rest -- remember? The one with the really ugly angel-gargoyle things? And we were looking up at the stars, and you were telling me about Cassiopeia. I felt... like the whole world was in front of us, just waiting for us to take it. Like... everything was perfect, and anything was possible." Her voice broke. "I haven't felt that way since." What can I say, I was in a masochistic mood. Just that entire, pain-sharing area... and her pain *so* was worse than Angel's :p But I had one small problem. I hadn't gotten around to printing it up. So, do I turn the computer on, which required getting out of my nice, warm bed, putting on my glasses, getting into the noisy chair (it squeaks whenever any weight is put on it) and generally waking up completely? I lay in bed for a further half-hour or so debating this. Finally, I get up and read it. Because I'm *still* a sucker for that piece. Sigh. I've printed it now. And I'm off to read it again. See, Leelee, even if the Blogger entries aren't coming as often, they're a long longer to make up for it. As long as I have the harddrive handy to type it all into... :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 4:44 PM [x] :: |
| l Saturday, September 07, 2002 |
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I hate having to use my parents' computer.
Everything I want is on my own computer. It's got all my downloads, all my files... it's my own comfort zone. I know where everything is, the colours are the colours I like, the sounds are sounds that won't grate on my nerves... I can have my own computer *as* my own computer. And I have to transfer files all the time. I was online and Dad comes over and says that just because he's offered -- note the terminology, he knows how much I depend on the Internet and he was being gracious. I had *better* be grateful for it, and this will be hanging over my head every time something comes up in an argument. They let me use their computer for Internet access. Because it's my fault I have something that's been going wrong with my computer ever since we first hooked it up to the Internet. Anyway, he said just because he offered the use of their computer, I had better respect that and not take advantage of it. Uh, hello? WTF? What the hell was he on about? I don't know. At the time, I was checking my email, emailing out to people who use the Bigpond email address that I won't be able to access that, catching up at the Babble Board -- where I don't even look at half the posts anymore, and I'm even further behind now because I decided to respect my parents and not spend all night on. So I spent about two hours doing that... I was catching up and... argh! It's at times like these my relationship with my parents deteriorates. :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 10:51 AM [x] :: |
| l Thursday, September 05, 2002 |
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 Which Princess Bride Character are You? this quiz was made by mysti |
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Shoot me. Shoot me now.
The computer has been in for intensive therapy dealing with its intense issues from a suppressed childhood in forming lasting relationships. Lasting relationships with a phone line. When at the computer shop, though, it didn't. Drop. Out. Once. Now, anyone who knows my computer via AIM and Babble Chat in particular will guess that my reaction was roughly as follows: "it's fucking WHAT?! You're kidding me; you have got to be fucking kidding me! What the hell are you doing?! What am *I* doing wrong?!?!?!" So we got the damn thing back, with a new modem (to see if that was the problem). I got on, was checking the OT Babble Board (I go from the bottom of the list up) and chatting to Kendra on AIM... and it dropped. Told Dad, who couldn't believe it (he couldn't believe the phone bill, either). So we're sending it back or something... in the meantime, however, I'm still depending on my parents' computer, which is suckville, to state the obvious. So I'll say again... if you want to contact me, go Yahoo. smurfette3001@yahoo.com, to be exact. I won't be connected via my own computer at all, so if anyone tries to send anything to purple_smurf@bigpond.com... well... there won't be any reply. I've been looking at changing providers, anyway, and this might all be the incentive to cut the Bigpond. After all, there's not much point in paying for it when it's not being used, and there's still this nagging voice in the back of my head that says it could still be them. The computer peoples said they felt the connection was working fine etc. etc. but they weren't actually *using* it, I don't think. I may only have limited access to my harddrive there, too, depending on what happens here. It could be a long saga. So updates to Maudlin Poetry will be pretty thin on the water, as will me checking email, replying and... well... generally being around. I won't have AIM, and I don't know what the status with Babble Chat will be, either. And I'm muchly unimpressed by it all <sigh> I'm actually heading towards the end of the whole JossBot saga, so I'm transferring that to the parents computer, too. I'm just generally pissed with it all. I've been told that I'm fine to use the parents' computer and connection, but I don't really feel "right" about using their computer online for the kind of hours I use mine. And God, this means I won't be able to go to TNS or Starrkitty's as much <hyperventilating> How will I survive without my B/A smut?!?! In other strange Smurfy news, I was listening to the Beatles the other day and had a strange moment with Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds... I kept going to sing "Cordy in the sky with diamonds". So it's not that Greenhack was on crunk, it was LSD all this time... which actually goes a long way to explaining AtS season 3, really. Now I'm off to completely change all the yahoo groups I'm on to a hotmail address. I have I mentioned lately how much I hate being on Daily Digest? "Illegal copies of the next Lord of the Rings movie has hit the internet 4 months before the film's release. Of course, if you're that desperate to know what happens, you could just read the book." -- Backberner :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 10:07 PM [x] :: |
| l Tuesday, September 03, 2002 |
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Just as an FYI, I'm going to be offline for a little while. So if I'm not in contact/around, SORRY!!! I should still be able to access my Yahoo email account, but I don't know the next time I'll be able to get a my Bigpond one in the next couple of weeks. Just so you know. And I'll talk to everyone once I get it all back up and running!!
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| l Sunday, September 01, 2002 |
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Wheeee!!! Faithgirl's put up Triumvirate. Go -- go join! I command you! Celebrate the likes of Willow/Tara/Oz and Angel/Buffy/Spike and Aragorn/Arwen/Boromir. And can I say how much I loves the fact that the version 1.0 is Watcher Sandwich?!
In other exciting news, I did it. I managed it. I "stuck my courage in th' sticking place", to misquote the Bard, and watched Casablanca. I think I'm glad I did. Yes, there were moments where all I wanted to do was wring Yahtzee's neck (and if this gets back to her, for any reason, it's a credit to her writing, and I mean no offence). Because I *could* see elements of Buffy in Laszlo. And I could see elements of Angel in Ilsa. But I could never see anything -- ANYTHING -- of Croddy/old Cordelia in Rick. In the story, yes, I can see where a non-shipper would say that Ilsa and Laszlo could be Buffy and Angel. But in the personality... well, I've always gone by personality as much as storylines when seeing Buffy and Angel in other forms of media than the shows, and in personality Ilsa was entirely Buffy and Rick was entirely Angel. The film said that Ilsa had heard all about Laszlo and he made her. That everything she was, it was because of Laszlo. But Ilsa also saved Rick. It was Ilsa who bought about Rick's redemption -- and Casablanca has always, always been known for it's themes of love and redemption. Who do we always look towards in terms of redemption? Well, unless we're reading one of Strega's recaps, I forget which one (Provider?), about the clotheshorse and the redemption... v. funny. I could go on about the time in the Spanish civil war etc. being Angel's time in the 1950s when it looked at one stage like he was joining "the good fight", but I won't. I'll talk about how Rick -- brooding Rick -- had so many qualities about him that just scream *Angel* at me. Take his decision to let Ilsa go. To send her on. She asked him to make the decisions, that she couldn't make them when it came to him. Do you think that this dialogue, infamous as it is, would have been out of place as he reflected on what he must do? "When it comes to you, (Rick), she's just like any other young woman in love. You're all she can see of tomorrow. But I think we both know that there are some hard choices ahead. If she can't make them, you're gonna have to. I know you care about her. I just hope you care enough." Ilsa is like the embodiment of Buffy at times; she knows the world, and yet... and yet you can see right through her. She's exactly how Angel describes her in Helpless: "'Cause I could see your heart. You held it before you for everyone to see. And I worried that it would be bruised or torn. And more than anything in my life I wanted to keep it safe... to warm it with my own." Okay, so taken literally, it's incredibly gross (I couldn't resist <g>) but it describes Ilsa perfectly. And so much of the way Bergman portrayed Ilsa reminded me of the way SMG portrays Buffy... which also says something about SMG's amazing skills as an actress. So whilst I can see the point Yahtzee was making with elements of Laszlo being Buffy and how Angel (or Ilsa) is what keeps them going, however, in terms of the romance and the characters (the important stuff)... well, the themes of romance and redemption in the story, they belong entirely to Buffy and Angel. And As Time Goes By can't change that for me. Of course, when it comes to Dame Judi Dench's As Time Goes By, the British TV series... :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 7:58 PM [x] :: |
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I've got a box of Arnott's Tomato Salsa Shapes in front of me, with their logo of "there is no substitute for quality" and I'm thinking how that would look on a piece of fanart. I need help.
Last night, we were watching the start of the footy on channel 10. Sydney vs. Richmond at "Telstra Stadium" (it'll always be Stadium Australia to be. Stupid commercial naming rights). It was also the first Kokoda Memorial Game. It was the 60th anniversary of the battle at Kokoda, one of the biggest battles in the pacific against Japan. I'm incredibly anti-war. I could go into this in-depth, regarding Afghanistan and particularly Iraq and how I feel they're only making more terrorists, but that's another thing entirely. However, I cannot help but admire General Peter Cosgrove, and I am incredibly admiring of veterans from *any* war. WWI, WW2, Korea, Vietnam, Gulf War... I think that all veterans need our support, not our censure. If I was around in the 60s, I would have been marching against Vietnam, but I think that the incredibly huge mistake made then was that they went against the soldiers, not the government. These guys were coming back such emotional scarring, and all they received was contempt, and that was wrong. So wrong I can't even begin to articulate it. So I couldn't help but be moved by these veterans, with the "Fuzzy-Wuzzy Angels" (this is not considered a racists term as the Papua New Guinea nationals and the "Angels" themselves are proud of the term, given to them as they carried the Anzac wounded and dying, risking their own lives, off the battlefield) coming to Sydney for the game. As they played a sombre version of Waltzing Matilda interspersed with The Last Post... The Last Post being enough to bring me to tears on its own. On a lighter note, given the above, I don't think I'll surprise anyone who reads this by saying that I live in Australia. Which is in the southern hemisphere, so it's at the end of winter over here. Spring starts on the 1st September. During winter, I live in skirts. Whether it's my knee-length tartan skirts with my knee-high boots and a pair of stockings, my long black or purple skirts with nylon tights and my Doc Martins, or my favourite long green velvet dress (also worn with the tights and Docs), the only other bottoms I wear are jeans. So generally my legs are hidden from view. As a result, over the winter months, I am terribly lax at shaving my legs. I don't shave them. I don't have someone to snuggle with at night to complain that they are hairy as all hell and could be made into dreadlocks, and, like I said, my standard winter outfits don't make it a necessity. The tights are nylon, though, and eventually it gets to the point where the hairs catch on the tights. Or there's a nasty case of static electricity going. This also causes itchiness. So after procrastinating for a couple of weeks, this morning I decided to shave them in the shower. And promptly remembered why I was procrastinating on the subject. Leaning over, my hair gunky with conditioner, the razor getting clogged every five seconds due to the length of the hair it's trying to remove, the steam making my asthma play up on me, the water running in strange places and getting everything in my eyes... I hate it. Then you get out of the shower and find that, due to the clogging issue, there's still all these hairs that decided to not be removed, and you have to go through it all again the next day. By the time I've gone through it all, I've decided that I'm not going to shave my legs again until the weather gets to the point where I'll move from tights and Docs under my shirts to anklets and black runners. Which, judging by how mild the weathers been in this area of the state of late, won't be long. And even then I avoid shaving like the plague, and only shave the bare minimum of area. Of course, this resolution will probably last until the next time I'm standing in queue at Safeway with the unpleasant feeling of nylon pulling hairs and fighting the urge to frantically scratch the length of my legs. :: Smurfette blogged for peace @ 9:29 AM [x] :: |
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[x] Blade |
| JOURNALS |
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[x] Alley |
| LINK-O-RAMA |
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[x] Amnesty |
| THE WEATHER |
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| CREDITS |
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Copyright Smurfette 2003 |
