“Love is hard to believe, ask any lover. Life is hard to believe, ask any scientist. God is hard to believe, ask any believer. What is your problem with hard to believe?”
— Life of Pi
— Life of Pi
Birth doesn’t come without blood, sweat and tears. There is nothing glorifying about the beginning of a life. It is a stretching and ripping and tearing and cutting and wailing and screaming and a reaching to the farthest extent of human exhaustion. There is nothing musical about the shrieking of a newborn child. There is nothing aesthetically pleasing about this peaking cry.
But there is nothing more beautiful. Not Apollo and his Muses could construct a more beautiful song than this herald of infinite possibilities, endless potential, and a future yet to be defined.
Right from the get-go there is pain. This is normal. It didn’t use to be. It wasn’t meant to be. But it is. Even two thousand years after Death has been laid in his grave, pain and brokenness and loss and disease and disorder is still normal, and right is not. Good is not. Healthy is not.
I wish it were. I wish I didn’t have to battle so hard every day to remain in control of my mind, to keep my heart united toward my ultimate goal, to behave according to what I know deep down is the truth. I wish I didn’t have to empty myself and repent of a million lies and robberies and blasphemies every time I approach the table of communion, and wonder if it’s even worth it for Him or if I even mean it. I wish right were normal for me. I wish it were for everyone. I hold out hope that someday it will be.
Until then, I will love abnormally. I will believe unendingly. And I will try patiently. I don’t know much of what else I can do.
It’s so strange.
The last time we went this long without seeing each other, we hugged so tight we could barely breathe. Now two one-syllable words and two awkward half-hugs bookending a weekend of politely ignoring one another between carefully orchestrated, minimal acknowledgments is our reunion.
It’s so strange.
I feel Californian today
“Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain”
Alice Guy was the first female film director. She would become the first female movie studio owner, and one of the most prominent filmmakers in the industry, making her one of the highest paid women in the U.S.
How could such an important figure in the birth of cinema be unknown to us?
So we, filmmakers Pamela Green and Jarik van Sluijs, had a case, a real detective story. We decided to search for answers. We’ve discovered surprising new information as we began our research and interviews. It turned into a feature documentary in-the-making about Alice Guy-Blaché and the birth of cinema – Be Natural.
This Kickstarter is so incredibly important to educating people about film history and more importantly the role of women in the earliest days of cinema and if you’re into film you should really consider donating to this.
I donated last weekend. There’s only three days left and they’re almost there. Make this happen, Tumblr!
I made a post about this yesterday, come on people I really want to see this be made. Alice Guy Blanche deserves some recognition after all these years of being pushed aside <3
I’m sitting on air
Afraid for the return of gravity
But I don’t want to float anymore
I want to run
This assault is a common form of “punishment” not only in Pakistan, but also in India, Bangladesh, Cambodia, Vietnam, China, throughout the Middle East, and in some Western countries. Women live in fear that should she disobey her father’s will, speak her mind, attend school, refuse a marriage proposal, deny sex, or exercise her free will, she will be punished for it. She will be forced to wear the scars for the rest of her life, to remind her of the “shame” she has brought upon herself, and be shunned by her society.
Women in developing nations are not blind. They have realized they don’t have to submit. They don’t have to obey. They can speak their mind, and they can do as they please. This disgusts the men, whose need for power and domination reaches back centuries, and this is how they enforce their control.
The practice has slowed in some countries, but in others, it’s on the rise. Men and children are also victims of these attacks. If you’re like me, and this is breaking your heart, there are ways you can help. Obviously, spreading the word is one of them, but donations are crucial. Many people in these countries don’t have access to the proper medical treatment or shelters they need. Donations help pay for bandages, medicine, housing, and training physicians. If you’re in a position to help, please consider it.
I know that to many of us, these people are far away, and seem unreachable. But they wake up every morning, just like we all do, and look in the mirror, like we all do. The fact that they don’t give up, that they keep going, shows unbelievable strength. I’m from America, where we obsess about our looks, and women are forced to think about our hair, makeup, and weight constantly. We can’t go into a shop, turn on the radio, or go online without being bombarded with ways to improve our looks. I’d like to think this will make a few of us stop and consider, even for a few moments, that there is someone who would be glad to have an option.
Check out what the United Nations Entity for Gender Quality (or UN Women) are up to. Help women around the world stay positive, hopeful, and keep fighting.
I know not who I am apart from you
What was once bound to my heart feels so untrue
Since I held the glass and stared
And said, Somewhere in there
's a man who could fall straight in love with you
Are you showing me where it is I end and you
Begin again, and do until it’s through?
That with sand upon my hair
My skin torn, my ribs bare,
There’d be the man who’ll cry on out to you?
What value could my heart give unto you,
Without one’s arms to hold it and undo
The sickly thin despair—
For dear God, it’s not fair!—
To never get to measure up to you
Would you tell me how to make it up to you?
Would you strain your eyes to keep this view?
Would you leave, unlearn it all,
Dismiss the sirens’ call,
To let me be man come home to you?
Broken, clean and naked, I stand near
Once more before the foggy glass and clear
The Image appears there
And I pray beneath somewhere
's a man who's going to change the world for you
A man who’s gonna change the world for you.
Deep in the glass I stare, and
Declare somewhere in there
Is a man who’s gonna change the world for you.