and tug at my clothes.

I just read one of the most heart-rending stories even though these stories are told thrice daily by women of all ages. Here's the beginning of it but it would do you a disservice if you do not link to the rest of it--including the comments at the bottom of the link. Here's an excerpt:

Blank Noise Project

I have terrible posture. That's what I discover in every exercise-dance class that I attend. Movements that should look graceful with the right posture look awkward, my shoulders droop. Did I never learn to walk with my head high in air, shoulders thrown back, breasts thrust up and with the confidence of being secure in the space around me? Actually, in my first gawky teenage moments, horrified by the first signs of a sexual persona in the form of growing breasts, I closed in my body to obliterate this shame of mine. And thus I walked home from school, fearful that my transition to womanhood would attract more of the sort of groping and pinching that had sporadically occured even when I was a child.

Yes, even at age 7. By a man who had kindly offered to seat me, the little kid, in his lap in a crowded bus. And then proceeded to grope me under my dress. I was puzzled, terrified, and never mentioned one word to my beloved uncle who had seated me on the monster's lap to save me from being choked by the crowded bus. In later years, I had the relative security of a school bus full of fellow students for most of my commutes, but the rare bus ride would be full of dread and anxiety, and as I grew up, I created a mental force field around myself, and became preternaturally aware of any clammy hand that tried to violate my physical space.

However, unsavoury incidents occured frequently. I told a male friend that I had been harassed twice by bastards who had been trying to press their obviously erect organs agains my shoulder as I sat in a bus. He was incredulous, he couldn't believe that there could be such lewd public behaviour in a country that can't seem to shut up about morality. A few weeks later, he called me, shocked, and told me that he had indeed seen a man on the bus he travelled in, with a very public erection, trying to thrust it against an unsuspecting seated woman. I wore, loose, ill-fitting clothing in the hope that it would make the harassers forget about my gender. Regardless, men even when they couldn't touch my skin, would try and tug at my clothes.

Read the rest: Blank Noise

But we can’t deny the Screams:

I dreamt last night that I saw a movie about a little girl who was telling her Daddy that something happened but it wasn't too bad and she knew he'd sit down with her and listen as she gently exposed the violent details~~~because she didn't want to arouse his anger too soon. Then the six-year-old's Daddy got a phone call and it was business and in the movie dream I could see the girl's face fading to white amid clouds of desperation and slowly the clouds engulfed her until she broke down because it wasn't really all OK as she had told him~~~she was needing to die.

Her face in the dream is shrouded like a veil and as her features break down in the crying frames, she then loses control and screams: I was raped!

Daddy then leaves his business and comes to her because he loves her and he holds her and you know in the dream he is going to vindicate his innocent little girl. Then I found this post today:

Smash, drip and evaporate...learn to be a woman by silbil
Screams free you! They did that too Naseeruddin Shah in Hero Heeralal But what happens to the screams of the heroines? … …okay? So what I have done is that I have begged you to save me from yourself…understood? … Than to rape me just once in while. Also now you can focus on so many more freelance rapes…
Marriage is all about common sense, my love…. First they decide what a beautiful woman should look like … See.they are men and therefore practical so they divide the work amongst them …fine? … because the bloody women always look enticing…
And they have to do that
You think it’s fun for them.
You think they enjoy this.
They ask irritably and wearily.
And I feel sorry for the poor darlings
Can they help it…that unfortunate hard-on and all that….

(Read the Full Text at: dostlog aur main)

An Ode to Women, Mothers, Grandmothers, Lovers

What a nice surprise to see such affection towards women and their invaluable gifts:

Make Some Noise: Some Blank Noise by Anjaan
women … have made me the man I am today. Its these women who make me a better man each day! My mom, my grandma, my aunts, my school friends, my classmates, my ex girlfriends, my teachers, my neighbours daughters, my friends, my sisters, Ammu and my female listeners. A huge Thank you to each one of you! :)

(Read and See the Rest at: The Tune of Irony)

Dreams of Racial Harmony

Dream by Neoh
Yesterday got a dream. I dreamed of how to promote racial harmony and deepen the bonding of Malay, Chinese, and Indian…

(Read the Dream at: NEOH)

'In the Lap of Nature'

I feel like I am constantly howling for healing in this world. There’s so much hatred and although it can be energizing for a time (or forever for some) I find that although it is easier to create for vice and malevolence, it takes much more strength and bravado to create for benevolence, excellence. Thus, I’ve posted the beginning of a poem from “Heal the World’s” blog. There’s a link below to read the rest, which links directly to that blog, which is not mine. I’m just a collector and surveyor of beauty throughout the blogosphere.

Gratitude by Meetu
moon seemed sprinkled with glitters
shining through drapes of night
breeze so calm and soothing
thought to stay awake
a little more
heaven so vast yet humbled
my gratitude to you
before i forget before i am no more
u never asked for anything in return
wish i can pack my bags
hold my guitar and air in my lungs
walk away to unknown destinations
everyone including me a stranger
a forgotten song on my lips
a forgotten rhythm on strings
in the laps of nature

(Link to: Heal the World)

Longing for Peace & Beauty Continues

Mindinside writes of imagining a world bright and fresh as a tangerine. I adore tangerines and living in peace and images of other such concertos and their succulent flavors amid desiccated zest. Thanks to the ‘woman’ for sharing her inspirations again and in my search for peace and beauty amid so much hostilities and imperfection on our globe.

Imagine by Mindinside
Imagine even if it's hard to imagine
A world bright & fresh as a tangerine

A world of happiness; far away from cruelty
Where there's no meaning to hatred and envy
Where jails and prisons are just a fiction story
A world with the children of Adam & Eve
living in peace and free
Imagine the world as a whole
no lines separating a country
A world in bond and without border
A world without war; with no traces of bloodshed
Imagine
A world full of kisses; full of smiles
A world full of friendship and full of love
When passing any window you notice
someone waves at you from above

(Link to: MINDINSIDE)

'Whoop and holler and have the ride of your life'

Wow, I’ve just finished writing a story about falling from airplanes and my daughter just finished telling me about her dream that let her “smack” from a tall building. And then this (what does it all mean?):

Enjoying Falling; Excerpts by Mighta
I'm trying this new thing. It's very revolutionary; I don't know if you've heard of it.

It's called living in the present. Have you tried it? It's WILD! …it turns out that if you can master that whole thing, you can enjoy falling. Rather than freaking out about what comes next or just feeling terrified, you can just throw your head back and whoop and holler and have the ride of your life. The falling parts... they don't last very long. What a waste it would be to spend those fleeting moments anticipating the ground coming up and going *SMACK*, right?

(Read the Whole Mighta at: Woulda Coulda Shoulda)

Beauty Spots

Searching for beauty,

Peeping for purity,

Observing places people visit because of its pleasing vistas

There’s not very much—

Even in the dictionary.

It’s there for a flash

And then its departed.

~~FrenchIndian

Always Leave Room In Your Life For Beautiful Unexpected Things

you are my sunshine by jarvenpa
My youngest son thought it strange to see his mother stopped in her tracks outside the produce section of the local market, near the bananas, staring at little stuffed bears and unicorns and dogs and rabbits, pressing the stuffed animals' stomachs, listening to the tiny digital music. "Go now, let's go," he said, tugging me towards the checkstand.

"Your grandma used to sing that," I said. But Gabe could care less, and even if he'd liked the song, or had some emotional connection to it, he has better musical taste.

We went to the checkstand, detouring for a chocolate bar and a bunch of roses--cream colored roses with pink and coral edges. No, they weren't in the budget, but I was still enthralled by my mother's song, and remembering one of her frequent homilies: Always Leave Room In Your Life For Beautiful Unexpected Things.

(Read the Rest at: Outside the Windows)

Symbols of the Sacred by Saturn Air Jam

The sacred symbolises that which is inviolable, non-negotiable, and so central to our identity that, when it is injured in any way, it seems to vitiate the deepest self.

Link to: The Moving Finger writes...

Springing to New LIfe

Everything is springing to life

indicative of Mother Earth’s potency,

new births,

signifying new readiness to put effort into new,

sometimes risky, undertakings

that have no guarantee of success.

~~ French Indian

Window to the Soul in Wildness by Jac

I love mountain laurels. My mother used to talk about mountain laurels and I used to paint and draw mountain laurels and a blogger (here) has a glorious picture of one. I am at ease this early evening amid so much worldly strife, gazing at a most beautiful wildflower. The beauty of wildflowers is unmatched.

'Where are you' by Mindinside

hey you! wild deer
Where are you
I feel so close to you
We're both lonely and wanderer
let's put our hearts together
lets talk of our wishes to each other

I see the meadow no longer lively; no longer green
our wishful dreams invisiable ...unseen

Without you ... I am drained ... empty
Tell me, what's going to happen to me?
Will I ever be free?

Link to the author: Mindinside

She Won't Let Go by Nishant Goyal

We were having a leisurely lunch in Henley, a sleepy small town on the outskirts of London. As I got up to leave, a little 2 year old girl with golden hair sitting on her toddler chair at the adjoining table smiled at me. I smiled back and she grabbed my finger as I was walking past, much to amusement of her mum and dad. She giggled as I laughed and played along, pretending inability to pry my finger loose, and then she laughed some more as she grabbed my other finger.


‘She won’t let you go, you know’, her mum said.
‘If only she was a little older.’ I replied.

Link: THE KALYUG CHRONICLES.

A Beginning & an Elevation by Jack's Shack

"...sometimes even the average man finds himself in a situation that is beyond his control, a time in which he becomes something more than he has been.But the question is not what he does to elevate himself but how he handles the elevation?"


Link to the rest at: Fragments of Fiction-An Ongoing Novel: The Complete Set

Convenient Creations by Anjaan

from Anjaan's, Time Bound Insanity

"...sometime all of us do feel that things were moving faster.. It is confusing, because in spirit there is no time. Time is relative, we all know. But what is a true minute. What is a true hour? what is a true month? what is a true year? Are these just convenient creations that man has for making his life more comfortable?...."

Read the Rest at Chronicles of a Button Pusher

Dream

Yesterday got a dream. I dreamed of how to promote racial harmony and deepen the bonding of Malay, Chinese, and Indian (the 3 major ethic group) in Malaysia.

Here is the content of the dream:Read the Rest at Neoh

The Only Answer is Instinct

"THANKS GIVING.....

What a vast and deep subject to ponder... What keeps up alive? Through all of the layers of oppression? It is true every nation has experienced this covering, smothering, suffocating oppression. Is this natural? What about animals and the balance of nature. Have we forgotten how connected we are to everything??? Yes, I have a million questions and the only answer is instinct." Read the Rest by Erin

Neither rain, nor sleet, nor bleeding boobs...

~~by Would Coulda Shoulda

I used to think that mail carriers had it hard, what with the delivering the mail no matter what thing. That was before I started blogging, though. Now the postman can suck it up, because it's far worse being a blogger. I skip one day and my mother calls to make sure I'm not dead. Sheesh.

Sometimes I skip a day. I've noticed that it doesn't seem to alter the rotation of the earth any, so I thought it was alright.

But hey, it's nice to feel loved.

Now, let me tell you what a moron I am. (That's why you came, right?)



Read The Rest at Woulda Coulda Shoulda

A window to my soul: Braided Hair

A young girl of six, her colour coffee brown
My cheek is not sexy,
nor rough, or silken

That smile from that black cutie
Equals
to kisses, a couple of million

She knows, she knows, I love them children
That card of valentine, I value with trillion

Link to the Rest: A window to my soul: Braided Hair

"An old soul...

Here I was lusting for chocolate from afar because of my high blood pressure.

Oscar Talk From Sadly No

Sadly No

"I really hope Brokeback Mountain wins best picture, if only because it'll result in a week's worth of hilarious whining at Townhall, WorldNetDaily and Renew America. I personally can't wait to read Ben Shapiro's column about how Hollywood mocks traditional values by not hating on gay people."

I Shouldn't Be Surprised

AverageMom

I have mom clothes. Mom hair. I am in bed at 10:30, which is a mom bedtime. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, since I am, after all, a mom.

Saying No

ECHIDNE OF THE SNAKES

"Too bad. She shouldn't have had sex. Three kids and no money are just what the bitch deserves. Her two little kids deserve it too for choosing a mother like her....if you're in a position like this woman, a low paying job and two kids already. Guess what? Don't fuck."

It's Alive, It's Alive

Words of a Writer

"It's alive!! It's alive!!!

Dear Techie gods,

Thank you, thank you so much, for allowing my imac to come alive again in order for me to save everything I need today.

Kiss, kiss."

Hugs with Strawberry

A Little Cheese with that Whine?

"How do you feel about Hershey's Kisses? Are you a purist and will only eat the milk chocolate in their bright silver foil or are you an adventurous type? Kisses website can give you a rundown on their products although I noticed they are missing at least one. I got the Hugs with Strawberry at Valentine's Day...."

Winter Doldrums by Boomer Chick: Musings of an Over the Hill Chick

Boomer Chick: Musings of an Over the Hill Chick

I think it's the winter doldrums, but I've got a hankering for some R&R and the word "vacation" is sounding mighty nice.

Being cooped up in this house, working almost 24/7 at my "real" job, and putting way too much on my plate leaves me yearning for some R&R.

A Whispering Soul

A Whispering Soul

I will keep blogging, but on my own schedule. There may be some weeks where I will blog two or three times a week, and others where I don’t blog at all. That’s what feels right. Thanks for all the kind and supportive e-mails and comments. They are much appreciated.

Twighlights Last Gleaming by John Cory

from la'ikoa

Who are these people? These people who line their pockets with the lives of our loved ones? These gray men who lurk in shadows and kill the sunshine of democracy? These people who wear morality like a cheap suit pilfered from the collection plate of decency? Who are these people who have turned America into their own personal ATM machine? These are the people of the lie.... This is twilight's last gleaming. Attention must be paid. Democracy is dying.

A transcendent poem by

Maya Cassis of India . Be sure to visit the site for sublime commentary and poetry.

Hate me Hate you
These feelings of negativity are not too sublime
They are too true to me
Just cant mask the feeling that am feeling inside
All this bliss when I am with you
negates to a spec of mortitude
You fascinate me in your dreams and mine
I love the thought of you snuggling just behind
Our ectasy is known only to our minds
for a moment the world is just floating divine
when i realise that you are just a game in my mind
So let me just hate you now
So you can hate me too sometime.

Today is True

I can’t find my place today
And I couldn’t find it yesterday
But I know there’s a place where everything seems true.

But what is true?

Maybe today is true.

--FrenchIndian

Swallowing My Sobs

Reading about Zitkala-sa, also known as Red Bird, I am struck by her account about how they "misunderstood the cause of [her] tears in Gertrude Simmons Bonnin's "The School Days of an Indian Girl." They so often think they understand the cause of the tears and so easily brush them away. "It was very little I could swallow besides my sobs," said the young girl. --FrenchIndian