Hey people!

I know that I haven't written in forever, but today, I want to talk about a social issue.
The equality between men and women, boy and girls, and how their childhood is shaped, to be specific. To get my point across, I'm going to use myself as an example, because, well, you won't really realize what's happenning until it's narrated like this.

When I was five years old, my parents began to send me to a tennis class. I was hesitant at first, but I loved it. I spent two hours afterschool there everyday, and my teacher was pleased with me because I was able to hold my own and actually play a match with all of the older kids. This was beautiful, and I began to think of it fondly, but, then came a major setback. The school I was going to lasted until 3pm, and I got home by 4pm, which was when my tennis classes started. I also had homework to do. So, we stopped my tennis classes, and as a compensation, I began to ride my old, discarded bike with my friends, and I had started a trend. All of us began playing on our bicycles. Healthy, active, and great.

I thought I had a pretty active childhood, and that my parents had encouraged physical activity for me despite the stereotype of dolls, playing house and other things. But then my brother was born.

From the beginning, it was the expectation that he go to the park everyday. That was fine, you know. I had to go to the park too. Everyone in my neighbourhood did. But then, we moved to a different country, and my brother got older. For some reason, my parents got all worked up about him having a sport. My mother put him in swim classes for competitive swimming, football (Americans, that means soccer in English), and when the schedule didn't work out, insisted my dad make him play a sport on the weekends.

To be fair, they did the same for me. But the weird part was, with me, my parents tried once. If it didn't work out, then it was too bad. But somehow, for my little brother, playing a sport was of the utmost importance, and if he didn't find one (which he still hasn't) then the world would supposedly come crashing down.

Now, my parents aren't sexist, and they're the ones who put me in the more liberal mindset, telling me that I didn't have to be a conventional girl, getting me toys meant for boys as well as girls (which shouldn't exist, as in, toys are for both sexes what the hell, but okay). But what I'm trying to point out is that certain stereotypes are ingrained in the minds of people. If you EVER find yourself thinking, "But that's such a 'guy-thing' (replace synonyms with things such as 'manly') to do" or "That's only something a girl could think of" or "That's so girly" or, my personal favourites:
"You're so manly" and "I cried like a little girl".

The thing about these things is, we've grown up with them. My parents would've never realized it, and they still haven't, that all my life, through my physical activity, I have been trying to prove to them that I wanted to do a sport too. And I never got the chance because of circumstance, or because of difficulties staying afterschool with the team, my shyness, the fact that I broke my leg, and so many other things.

When I was 7, I got a basketball hoop in the backyard. My brother went to soccer classes with a professional coach.

This stuff is seared into our minds like it's normal. And only now, people are beginning to realize, it's NOT fair. I am branded as the weak and unable to play girl in PE. Whereas other boys got passed to and scored eaily in basketball, I had to steal the ball from my opponents, guard it from even my teammates and score a swoosh shot to prove myself to my teammates. My 'guy-friend' who wasn't even able to dribble 5 meters without passing was passed the ball instead of me even though everyone knew he couldn't play. I was closer to the hoop, open, and able to shoot, because no one thought I was even worth guarding. Three reasons I should've been passed the ball, but I wasn't. Sexism is everywhere. It doesn't matter what you're thinking, if you ever catch yourself thinking something is typical of boys or girls, or that someone won't be able to do something because they're a boy, or a girl, stop yourself. Please. The only way to make people less sexist is to start the change with you, to make yourself aware, so you don't endorse sexist things by accident, so you yourself can teach the others around you through just thinking a little bit more.

Is it really that much to ask?

The Problem with my Bluebird

Charles Bukowski once wrote about a bluebird.
The one who he wouldn't let sing,
the one who couldn't see the sun shining.

But I have a different problem -
I want my blue bird to shine,
to cause commotion.
I want my buebird to be alive.

Have you heard of blue babies?
They haven't enough oxygen,
and my bluebird is starting to feel a lot like one.

They smother it down,
not asking whether it can breathe,
but whether the pressure is enough,
can I still pump out a tune in the key of A?

My bluebird is dying
crying
screaming.

But no one hears it.
I am running out of breath,
and my bluebird is suffocating.

Locked inside a cage of my own volition
I cannot scream nor can I shout,
and I am stuck with my own bluebird
asking me why I don't get out.


Based on: x

Hi my cutie patooties!

So, recently (or two months ago), I had this idea for a story that revolved around the Pied Piper of Hamlin, and the children that disappeared. So, I'm going to sit down and write the introduction for it now, because I figured, better now than never, and because I'll never do it unless I force my self to sit down and write it. Enjoy! (This will suck, so get out the popcorn and be ready to laugh disdainfully, plus, give me sassy feedback!)

_________________________________________________________________________________

Waking Up

She opened her eyes, feeling strangely old and new at the same time. She was in a cave, she thought, vague memories of the past slipping through her mind, as she tried to gather where she was and how she got here. Around her were a thousand stalctite, glittering like daggers from the roof of her mysterious abode. Suddenly, she heard a great grating noise at the end of the tunnel, as if someone were trying to open the doors pf the cave. She dropped down immediately, her instinct telling her to blend in, shielding her eyes from the little light that trickled through from such a great distance. She was so, so weak and tired, as if she had slept for thousands of years, only to wake up for a great destiny.

Suddenly there were two men, traipsing down the mass of bodies that she had neglected to notice, their eyes filled with horror and wonder. They thought aloud, wondering what a mass of chlidren were doing here, and why behind a cave? Were they even alive? She wanted to raise her hand, to ask for help and ask for them to help her survive, but she was so, so, befuddled by everything.

 She had questions of her own.
 What was the name she was recalling in the grey darkness? Who had led her here?
Only one thing seemed clear to her foggy mind, the only thing that she knew was as true as the stone floor she lay on, and as sharp as the rocky dagger sky she knew lay above her:
The Pied Piper will save you. 


_________________________________________________________________________________

Here it is guys! Tell me what you think, and please tell me how I can improve it! I only had 15 minutes to write this, and it's not a full fledged introduction, but I'm trying my best, since I've never written a story before. What should I add to it? Is there anything that's boring/too literary and not enough information? Help me tons!

Good night my little ducklings!
Anoushka

Dear Future Husband,

How are you doing? I do hope I like you. My curiosity (or is it fear?) is eating me up. I want to know how we met!

Did we collide into each other, me dropping my books like the flustered angel that I am, and your hand brushed mine as you helped me pick them up?
Or did we share an umbrella in the rain, the proximity of our bodies creating more lightning than the storm above our heads?

Neither, I hope.

You see, future husband, I have a problem. I hate perfect love, and I hope you're nothing like the perfect boys I see on TV. I want you to be as normal as possible. In fact, when we meet, please don't bother doing your hair ( I won't). When we collide, laugh at me for being clumsy because I was probably reading when I so rudely became the prow of the boat to your Ursula's chest. Then, proceed to hold my page for me, so that I can pick up my books, because you udnerstand perfectly well that no girl (or boy) needs help picking up a couple books (or maybe this time I was smart enough to use that extraordinary invention called a backpack?!). Anyways, comment on the book I'm reading and ask about it, then proceed to sit down with me at the table and prevent me from reading. I will certainly be unpleasant and may make many subtle comments about how I would prefer to be alone and reading, but you will already have found out that pestering me is something you enjoy, so you will cheerfully ignore anything I say.

Next, I hope, we do not have instant crushes on each other. I hope to like you as a human from the very start, but please, do not expect me to swoon into your arms at first try. Hopefully, maybe by the times we've known each other well enough to exasperate the living hell out each other, I'll begin to notice I like hugging you. You'll begin to like hanging out, just the two of us. Slowly, we get comfortable with the idea of liking each other, and maybe I'll tell you that I have never kissed anyone, and you'll laugh and call me lame. Promise me you'll do it, or I'll be too embarrassed to ever show my face to you again. Admitting is not something I easily do. I need my back-up comic relief when I am not capable of making my own particular brand of punny jokes.

Then maybe the first time we'll kiss you'll call me inexperienced. And laugh. Make me laugh a lot or I won't even think of marrying you. And be prepared to live with a bunch of dogs once you complete that requirement. You'll be feeding and walking them, while I get to pet them and witness clever tricks (you'll be in charge of those too, oh we're going to have so much fun!). We're an equal opportunity kind of couple. Or rather, we will be.

And going on dates. Right.
I'm promising you, our first date will be hell. I'll probably think up something really romantic like wall climbing, and in the middle, I'll faint from my undefeatable fear of heights, but you'll catch me. And then I'll yell "Just kidding!" in your face, cleverly untangle my harness and rope from yours, and monkey up the rocks while you hang suspended (and dumbfounded) in midair. Ha.
Just kidding. I'm really bad at wall climbing.
WAIT. Maybe our first date will be one of those typical dinner date things. Or going to the movies?
I'm crossing my fingers, because if you take me to an Avengers movie, I swear to God, you will be the last boy who I'll be looking at in that theatre. And you better agree with me that everything Nick Fury says is to be followed by either "Nick Fury is a religion" or simple admiration with the phrase "Oooooooh!" Otherwise bye.

Oh, and when you propose to me, please don't write a speech. Please don't tell me your life changed after you met me, because the only life changing thing I made you do was switch to NickFury-ism, the greatest religion of them all. And maybe I did encourage you to get a tumblr account, which might have led to your higher procrastination levels. Okay, don't mention that when you propose to me. I'll say no out of consideration for you.
Convince me. 
I already know you're great. That's probably why I let you in this far. I don't do that with many people. Convince me that I'm worth marrying. Make me laugh (I have a bad sense of humour so this part's easy). This is why I asked you to leave out anything that I worsened for you in life. You already know that I'm too shy to even ask someone to close the window if it means that it might inconvenience them. I wouldn't even let you tie my shoelace when I broke my hand. I honestly don't think I'm worth it. Please, go make me look in the mirror at that face of mine, and tell me that behind it lies the most superlative person you've ever known. Don't tell me I'm pretty, because I'm tired of people who think that's the one thing a girl wants to hear. But you already know that. So you 'll call me lame, with a dash of poor humour and nerdy, all of the things I really am, and you will tell me that it's worth knowing.

Dear future husband, whoever you are, thank you for coming this far with me. I probably love you, and have a harder time saying that than I should. Just kidding! I shower for your sake, so you should know that I am already putting 100% more effort than I did for anyone else.

Long live Nick Fury,
you-remember-your-wife's-name-so-yeah-hey-it's-me

Hi guys!

I'm here to tell you: thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much!
In case you guys didn't infer from the title, my blog hit 1006 subscribers at around 11am today (April 23).

I know that 1,000 isn't a big number, but for a new blogger like me, it's a big deal! I'm so happy!
So now, it's time for the usual cheesy dedications!

Firstly, this achievement goes to my friends Firescales and That Weird Girl at http://fictionallitostandaleatory.blogspot.com.br/ who inspired me to start writing a blog. If it hadn't been for you guys, I wouldn't even have realized that 1006 was an important number for me, and that people care enough to read something a silly 15 year old lke me has to say. Thank you.

Secondly, to my crazy second family (you know who you are), thank you. Moving from the Philippines to Brazil can really give someone a writers block, but you guys put me through. You might be the only reason I survived this year. I love you, and you mean tons to me.

Thirdly, to the people in Brazil (you won't be reading this, but) I want to thank you for the tons of comic relief, and for accepting a random weirdo into your group, and making me feel like one of your own. You're the only reason I feel welcomed in Brazil. :)

And lastly, to you who reads!! I know that some of the people mentioned before have been forced into reading my blog tons of time, but I know that random people from Ireland, Germany and France are paying attention to outlandish me. YOU THERE! Thank you! You guys are the most important people in this process, and it would be kinda impossible to have 1000 views without you guys.

So you guys, thank you for keeping this featherpaw'd awkward giraffe's dream alive.
You guys inspire me to write more.

Have a day,
FeatherPaw.