I believe that there is nothing wrong if you expect people to not settle for any less and that you can’t be faulted for it. That if you expect people to set high standards for themselves you are not meddling, and that you only have the best of intentions for them. That if you expect them to have pride and self-respect it does not mean that you’re being rigid and puritanical–you merely want them to have a sense of self in the highest form.
To sound judgmental is the last thing I want to come off, because I’m not; I’m the type of person who tries to give people the benefit of the doubt first. But lately I’ve been exposed to disturbing human behaviors which no amount of rationalization I do could justify, and I just can’t help it and need to vent out: just why there are people who choose to be such losers? Why do certain people out there allow themselves to conduct in such a low, pathetic manner? I would’ve just convinced myself that it’s none of my business, that I have no right to persecute them unless I’m directly affected. But seeing as the society (hello, interwebs) I’m in is thriving healthily on too much trashy swagger and it is being let to happen and filed in the “that’s life” mentality by many people, I’m greatly disappointed.
I’m aware that most of my ideals are alien to a lot of people, and that I can’t expect them to adapt to my unpopular way of thinking. I surely have my own flaws, God I do, but I do recognize them, and there’s a conscious effort on my part to rectify or at least make up for them.
But my being flawed doesn’t legitimize the existence of mediocrity and ill-breeding; I can’t be told that I’m not perfect anyway, and so I don’t have the license to wax prudishness. But don’t look at me– look at the mirror. There’s no excuse why you should settle for the gutter when you could shoot for the moon. It’s unforgivable.
I just recently learned that there has been an all-women protest going on in Yemen for quite some time now. From what I gather in the news the on-going rally is against the regime of Yemen’s President Ali Abdullah Saleh, and the women are calling for his ouster.
I’m glad to hear about this; I can’t root enough for those Yemeni women for getting their audacity together and spilling onto the streets to speak their minds without fear of whatever their act of defiance may bring them. It’s about time.
However, though, I’m deeply bothered by the sight of these hordes of women with how they are clothed while out there protesting: completely covered in black garbs, with their eyes only visible because of the religious veils.
I can’t help but shake my head in disbelief. I don’t know what’s with Islam and its men that they’re doing this to their women. It’s a complex topic, the Muslim women still being manipulated by ancient, twisted beliefs which at best are better off dead. I don’t have anything against Islam, or religions for that matter. People believe in them, so maybe there’s something about them. Great. But when religions (or men, they’re interchangeable in most cases) treat women as if they’re at the behest of their chauvinistic whims, controlling them even with regards to how they wish to dress themselves, then I’d rather worship a lifeless tree.
Filling up bio notes is not something that I’ve mastered. You know, when you submit your works to publications and literary anthologies and you as the author are required to summarize yourself in a few words. Just how do you encapsulate who you are to your readers in such a constricted space?
In submitting another piece a little while ago, which I’d been working on sporadically for the longest time thanks to procrastination and lack of inspiration, I was again dumbfounded with what I’m supposed to put on the bio notes. I’ve always wanted my works to speak in behalf of myself and never by my “accomplishments”, and so I’ve never felt inclined whatsoever to mention personal informations like where I’ve been previously published or the university I went to or what kind work or volunteerism I’m doing and so on; and anyway by doing so I’m only allowing myself to get measured by society based on its rotten standards. So with my usual mysterious and humble approach towards everything, I just put, “The less said about me, the better.”
Here’s a little something I came across with a while back as I was flipping through an old notebook of mine. I remember having read this somewhere a long time ago and decided to write it down.
It still makes me smile.
Olny srmat poeple can raed tihs. Cluod not blveiee taht I cluod auclatly uesdnatnrd waht I was raednig.
The phoenemnal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrning to a rseacerh at Cmabrgide Uvinesrity:
“It deos not mttaer in waht odrer the ltteers in a wrod are. The olny ipmoartnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit plcae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sltil raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcauese the hmuan mnid deos raed ervey ltteer by istlef, but the wrod as wohle.”
Yaeh, and I awlyas thgouht splelnig was ipmoartnt.