Poetry

Rules to Appreciate a Sexist Joke

One,

When a funny sexist joke is told, laugh.

Ha. Obviously. Laugh out loud.

Laugh so much

Tears stream down your brown cheeks

Making tracks in the thin, uneven terrain

Of your self-worth

So it solidifies the fact

That you should have no self-worth.

What’s the sense

In the useless sense of self-worth

Some women strut around with anyway?

Two,

Always, and I mean,

ALWAYS Compliment the joke.

And, the one who told the joke.

Surreptitiously slipping

“Women belong in the kitchen”

In a totally unrelated conversation

Takes such clever thinking on a person’s part.

Don’t ever open your mouth

To say a bad word about the beautiful joke.

You don’t want to seem sensitive and intolerant,

Do you? DO YOU?

Three,

Leave your brain cells in a closet.

Without a key.

“Jokes are meant to be taken in a funny way!”

Four,

Don’t try to tell the joke teller

They’re being a sexist asshole.

They WILL question your sensibilities

Because apparently, you didn’t put your brain to see

If it was “worthwhile” doing anything.

And, they WILL reprimand you by asking,

“Wasn’t it simpler just to laugh”.

Five,

Appreciate without question.

Applaud without hesitation.

Laugh without brain function.

And, never ever question them

About how their brain could come up with

Something so pathetically insensitive.

Don’t remind them

They are highly educated people

With the huge responsibility of

Educating the others about equality,

If you aren’t ready to hear the retort

“The highest result of education is tolerance

And you should develop some”.

Don’t tell them you aren’t educated enough

To laugh at the sexist chauvinistic fucking joke.

And, don’t you dare tell them

That every fucking joke,

Any sexist joke,

Is not fucking funny.

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Poetry

She wanted.

imageWanted.Wanted.Wanted.
Wanted.

She sat still on the windowsill
Looking down at the street below.
The mother of 4 juggling the groceries,
The mad man singing about getting killed on Friday,
The vagabond trying to sell rattraps to whoever would look him in the eye,
The giggling girls talking about boys they’ve loved before.
She sat there, staring, and speculating.
She was there. And, yet not.
She was thinking about the time gone by.
She was thinking about the days wasted.
She was thinking about the past that flew by her, unnoticed.
She wanted to live again, and not just exist.
She wanted to take it all in, and not just breathe.
She wanted her life back.
She wanted to live.
She wanted.

-a-

Lists

5 Ways to Get on with Life Once a TV Series Ends.

When you invest hours upon hours in a story, the characters, the relationships, and the emotions, you form an attachment to that TV series. Watching it and waiting to watch it becomes a habit you can’t seem to shake off. You think about what happened in the last episode you watched when you wake up and you wonder about what will happen next when you go to bed. You start breathing, living, and dreaming in the world of those beloved characters. You obsess and you want to get to the end. But when you do, it hits you like a sledgehammer.

Mayen. What? It’s over? No more Kate and Sawyer? No more annoying Jack? What do I do now? WHAT!?!*

It’s not easy to move on from the life you had experienced alongside your own. It was as if it’s yours, too. You were with them right there on the island, too. So, how to get out of the funk and get on with your life when it’s ended?

Here are 5 steps how.

1. START WATCHING A NEW SERIES. Duh

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Well, isn’t that the most obvious option? To stop obsessing over one thing, and to start obsessing over something else. As simple as that. Not exactly healthy. But, well, a person in need got to do what they got to do.

2. WRITE AND SCRAPBOOK.

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Get it out, darling. Whatever it is that comes to your head when you think of it, write it down in a separate notebook. Scrapbook. Paste pictures, and little trinkets that remind you of that favorite scene, write stuff about characters and write about your opinions on a particular twist that the new season brought about. And once you have it all poured over the pages, make a time capsule and put the notebook away for next, say, 2 years. You will reminisce and be so damn happy when you get to see it again.

3. START A FAN BLOG.

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It’s the new cool. People love to find people with similar interests. Write reviews of episodes, your opinions about different relationships throughout the series, how it could have turned out better, how it couldn’t have been any better, characters and their lives, the actors and their lives…blog it out of your system.

4. START YOUR OWN RANGE OF MEMORABILIA MERCHANDISE.

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If you have the funds and the time, you can start your own range of merchandise dedicated to the series. This will engage your creative sides and will make the ideas swirling inside your head a beautiful reality. This will get you to stop going crazy and will be like a productive transformation of the series in your life. Not to mention, you will make money out of it.

Who doesn’t want an amazing pendant, or ring, or key chain, or mugs, or tee-shirts which reminds them of their beloved series?

5. RE WATCH.

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Re watch the whole series again. Maybe then you will get over it and stop obsessing. When it becomes predictable and not so wonderful anymore, maybe it won’t be that great for you. Maybe you will realize that all it was meant for was 2 reruns and now it’s time to move on.

Getting over something isn’t easy. It takes time and patience. A TV series is nothing different. So, try to get over it, do stuff that might help, but if you aren’t able to move on, maybe you aren’t meant to. Not yet.

(NOTE: This isn’t only about moving on from a TV series. These steps can be followed to get over anything. If it’s a relationship –with friends, with family, whatever –maybe you got to start trying. Or, maybe not. It’s your call. Take your time. With a little improvising these steps can be used to get over anything in life. All you need is patience. And, a little faith.)

*referencing the TV series LOST.

Poetry

Words, always.

She was the kind of girl

Who didn’t blink when you told her

She was pretty.

She was the kind

Who became giddy when you told her

Her words were pretty.

That’s what made her ecstatic.

That’s what made her feel alive.

Words, hers and yours.

Always.

Poetry

7 Years.

7 saal baad kisi ne pucha

“kyun laut-ti thi baar baar?

Apne aatm-sammaan ko bech diya jaise.”

“koi bhaari karz chukaana tha shayad.

Abhi bhi baaki sa lagta hai kuch.”

Crude translation:

Someone asked me after 7 years,

“Why did you go back again and again?

It’s as if you had no self-respect left.”

“I had to pay off a heavy debt, I guess.

I still feel like there’s some more left.”

Emotions

Only ever you.

Source: Pinterest

It took me months to let you go.

After the last love poem you ever wrote for me, I tried to find the same ethereal beauty in writings of others. They were beautiful. But they weren’t yours. Nobody could write poems like you do. Only ever you.

After the last fight we had, you called me names, I whined and whined, I tried to find the words that would call me silly and still tell me they love me for who I am. No words were the perfect balance of “You are stupid” and “You have a beautiful smile”. Only ever you.

After the final good byes, filled with remorse and tears spilling all over, I tried to find the same hey, beautiful in every greeting, in every hello. None of the words seemed sincere enough. None of them yours. Only ever you.

After the last text you ever sent, I tried to find your mark on everything. I stalked you on your social media accounts, I stalked the kind of music you listen to, I stalked all the words you ever said. It wasn’t you. Only a memory of you. Only ever you.

After the last time I typed your name in the search box and had my fill of your name all over the cursed screen, I thought of texting you once again. Maybe we could make do. Maybe we could work out. I had been too adamant in my refusal to accept you. You had been too insistent our time is now. Maybe you were right. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have listened to you. Only ever you.

After thinking of you for months and months, I suddenly realised I had no more tears left to cry, I had no understanding of poetic words anymore, I found no joy in lovely hellos these days, you haven’t posted on any of your pages in months now, and I knew I was right afterall. This was my wake up call. You had been special, and I had loved you for who I thought you were. Only ever you.

But you weren’t a match for what my mind had conjured over time. Not in the least. You were a figment of my imagination. And, like everything imaginary, it hurt to let you go. You were mine. And, you were beautiful. But you weren’t real.

Those poems were oversent, those hellos overused, those compliments generic, the memories of you meddled with by my need to hold on to the perfection of you a little while longer, and your exclamations of us belonging together as untrue as they come.

It became easier to take a deep breath and it became easier to let you go.

We weren’t meant to be afterall.