Passion, emotion and whatever I damn feel like

Is it just me or have we become more emotionally detached?

I’m really tired of being made fun of, even in the most lighthearted situations, because I feel like I no longer know anyone’s true intentions. Why is that just I, or anyone else for that matter, have to be sacrificed for a “funny” joke?

Just before the summer started, I feel like I for once know where I have people around me. I have friends that I know will always be there for me, that I know love me for who I am. But then, there are those. There are those who are only there when it suits them, that are only willing to help when they have something to gain from it themselves.

They also joke about how “unemotional” they are. That they have no feelings, that they never cry or aren’t passionate about anything. There are of course people who are more private, that don’t like to talk about their feelings and would rather keep it to themselves. But in this case, it makes me question – am I just an accessory? Let me explain this.

A few weeks after Christmas, my mum told me that my childhood friend has been suffering from depression, without telling her parents or her closest family. I, of course, was very upset about this, not being able to do anything about it because first, I wasn’t supposed to know about this and second, because I live about 2000 km away from her. I wanted to talk about this with someone, so I told my so-called closest friend. Of course you don’t expect them to know exactly how you feel, but you at least expect them to TRY and make you feel better – it’s what friends do. Instead, this “friend” giggled slightly and said: “You know I’m bad at this, I don’t know how to make people feel better. I have no feelings”. This really upset me, almost more than the whole depression-situation itself. This was the last thing I wanted to hear. I wanted her to give me a hug and say “don’t worry about it, it’ll be fine”. I felt like she mocked me, and just made fun of me for being sad about my friend. To add to this, this friend told our other friend about the situation. She didn’t tell her that I was sad and needed someone to comfort me. No, she laughed and told it as a joke because SHE could not make me feel better, because it was obviously hilarious that she had no feelings. The other friend laughed. And I felt like a joke.

This is just one example, but this happens often. There are essentially three “friends” that treat me like this, the two above already mentioned. They have made me feel bad about “having feelings”, or more specifically, showing my feelings.

I despise pessimism and negativity. Of course you can’t always be a delightful ray of sunshine, but constantly seeing the bad in people and always identifying the negatives of a situation, irritates me more than anything and if I’m not wrong, doing this won’t ever get you anywhere. One of the people specifically, brings everyone down. I once jokingly said: ‘don’t be so pessimistic’, to which this person responded: ‘well I fucking hate your enthusiasm’. She had no right to insult me for being passionate about the things we were talking about. And she had no right to insult me for simply being happy in that moment.

This, I feel, shows the overall response that I get from these people. Whenever I am passionate about something or I am happy about anything, they have a tendency to bring me down. They usually never feel happy for me and sometimes ‘happiness’ becomes a game or a competition to them.

I still consider these people my friends, because they have done good things for me and I know that they don’t always mean to hurt me. I think it is partially a cultural barrier or a cultural difference, but I also think that I have become somewhat excluded from them socially and emotionally. Again, it makes me feel like an accessory. Or even just like a victim for their “unemotional” banter.

It is also difficult because we go to the same school, which in addition, is quite a small school. I don’t want to “dump” these friends, because drama is unnecessary and it will stir things up that I would like to avoid in my last year of high school. But I know where I have them. I know these are friends I cannot trust to 100% and I know that I can focus most of my energy and time on friends that I love. This will also be difficult, because one of my best friends is friends with these people that bring me down. I don’t know if she feels the same as me about them. But I have a feeling it will all work out.

These friends have changed me. They have made me more self-conscious and I almost feel embarrassed to share what I truly believe and feel. In senior year I am going to ignore their negative opinions because I now know where I have them and perhaps I will even learn to question their true intentions.

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size   
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,   
The stride of my step,   
The curl of my lips.   
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,   
That’s me.
 
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,   
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.   
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.   
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,   
And the flash of my teeth,   
The swing in my waist,   
And the joy in my feet.   
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
 
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
 
Men themselves have wondered   
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,   
They say they still can’t see.   
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,   
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
 
Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.   
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.   
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,   
The bend of my hair,   
the palm of my hand,   
The need for my care.   
’Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
 
- Maya Angelou

“Leave perfect alone, it has its own life…”

Sex appeal – it’s a mess. It is like we’ve forgotten our natural human desires and what they really are and what they really mean. We have twisted them and made it into an issue of superiority, of inequality, and worst of all: of danger. Danger because women are being raped, danger because men can now look down on women however they like and danger because we don’t always have the power to no longer just say ‘no’. Anna Lieberman says it all: you don’t have to be pretty, you don’t have to be a “cosmogirl”, because who cares? You are not defined by your waistline or your silky hair. It is your personality, your kindness that defines you. Why do we look for something to be worthy of when it already exists? Media keeps feeding us our own flaws and for what? An increased profit margin and a good image that only sells clothes to a girl that we can truly call “skinny” – yeah fuck you, Mike Jeffries. I buy whatever clothes I want, I wear whatever I want and I shouldn’t have to be scared to walk alone at night or be blamed for provocation if my shorts are not halfway down my thighs. Some say feminism has gone too far… how is that even possible? I honestly dream of the day when such a thing as feminism doesn’t HAVE to exist but you know what, for now, it really does. In Nigeria about 300 innocent girls were kidnapped, in India rape is an everyday routine and in just about everywhere, “slut”, “bitch” or “whore” is just as common as being called by your real name. By the time this has been posted, more than 10 girls have been raped. 11, 12, 13…

Standards don’t define you. Gender, looks, weight, height, skin, hair, nails or sexual orientation. Who cares? You are what you are, so don’t apologise. Don’t make excuses. You sexist me, I feminist you.

“You are not made of metaphors, not apologies, not excuses…”

My friend recently introduced me to slam poetry and spoken word poetry, and I am in love! It is amazing what these people can come up with and I wish I was just as creative. What they write, or speak to be more exact, is so beautiful and so true. They make very complicated things seem ten times easier. They are, to say the least, incredibly inspiring. And unsurprisingly, I’ve fallen mostly for those that discuss feminism, sexism and perception of women. They are so powerful and really make you think about the way the world works around you. Sarah Kay, the poet in the video, also performed two poems at a TED talk and since I watched that Youtube clip, I’ve been watching millions of others by both her and other poets. This one is just one of the amazing examples I’ve been watching…

You reap what you sow…

IF YOU SEXIST ME, I WILL FEMINIST YOU.

I have no idea who came up with this quote, but I love it! Some people argue that women pull the “feminism card” way too often. But in fact, it doesn’t come out of nowhere. If you manage to spew out a disgusting, pathetic comment about women in derogatory terms… you will most probably be met by a feminist slap in the face. Don’t be surprised. You reap what you sow, asshole.

In IB we learn the art of procrastination

In the midst of the IB chaos and mayhem, I’m trying to juggle biology labs, economics internal assessment (which by the way, is basically impossible to do well in!), history essays, extended essay research, Swedish self-taught poem analyses, English presentations and IOCs, math statistical internal assessment and on top of that trying to fit in some early revision time for the upcoming practice exams in June, and I can’t help but ask myself: why can’t I just be really good at something? Slightly off topic but may I just add: what a terribly long sentence that was. The IBO would be so disappointed in me right now… Back to my question, it sounds awfully depressing and maybe a little pathetic but currently I just feel like the IB is swallowing me up. I’m trying to keep the plates spinning, all at an equally steady pace, but I think it’s just making everything worse. My English teacher said to us yesterday that we just have to let some of these plates spin a little bit on their own and focus more on others. I think he was just hinting that we should focus more on English right now, but hey. It is a fair point, but how do you choose? Why would you risk one of these plates falling since it will just drag everything down with it? I’m dreading these first predicted grades. 

I guess this is the true dilemma and drama of an IB student. It isn’t necessarily that the content is difficult. Maybe in Bio, but that might just be because I am a terrible biologist. Cells and photosynthesis just don’t make sense to me. It is more that we have to learn how to juggle 6 subjects + TOK + 150 CAS hours all at once. Oh, and lets not forget the beloved Extended Essay. I swear that thing just keeps haunting me. All the time. Honestly, I’ve just been denying its existence for far too long now. Oh dear, my EE supervisor won’t be too happy about that. 

I think this is the best definition for the IB… thank you urban dictionary, I couldn’t have said it better myself: 

International Baccalaureate: A malicious program aimed at the unnaturally brighter population in an attempt to overload their brains, thus reducing them to vegetables without lives. However, a true IB student will respond by adapting and BSing their way through.

I’m only joking. I’m being overly dramatic as per usual. There is a reason why I got the “drama queen” award in 8th grade, just sayin’. For me, it helps to complain about the workload that I get. Somehow, it makes me feel better… Some would just call it self-pity. Self-pity has become my new form of procrastination because I can’t think of a better way to spend my precious time. Genius! 

 

My rant about the horrors of the IB is finally over. For now. 

Lots of love!