I am lying on my bed (a setting which has sadly already been described during last weeks stimulating episode, or I would take this opportunity to bulk out my narrative), worrying. I have noticed that when I'm particularly bored and/or friendless, instead of finding a useful task to occupy me, I tend to stare into space thinking about awful things that could happen. Top worries today, include (in no specific order); incurring a deadly spider bite, blood poisoning, the war in N/S Korea, and the fact I may have bought bogus airline tickets. There are concrete (ish) reasons for these concerns. The spider one for example, is because there are lots in my room, and I realised last night that I don't know the Colombian version of 999. I think I would be too worried about looking stupid to alert a neighbour if a spider bite situation were to occur. Also, can you imagine the spanglish? The necessary miming? The potential for google translate to get it dreadfully wrong? No. The blood poisoning anxiety is because I pierced my ear with a needle. It hurts and went really red, so I googled blood poisoning. Admittedly this was a few days ago now - I expect it would have produced serious symptoms by this stage. The airline ticket anxiety is because I bought them from a website called "CheapOair", which seemed funny at the time. The money still hasn't come out of my account however, and in hindsight perhaps a company that makes you chuckle isn't necessarily one you should put financial trust in. The war in Korea is of course a genuinely terrifying turn of events. My knowledge of politics is at best flimsy, but any war is scary. Mainly, I'm afraid I get stuck here for years whilst nuclear missiles zoom around the skies. There is something very, very wrong in me making an entire war about myself, I recognise that, but it's what I've done.
Other than imagining my own tragic demise, I have been making a cook book for Claudia. Illustrated and in Spanish it gives some indication as to my levels of inspiration, that I spent 160 minutes colouring in drawings of peanuts, lentils and chickpeas. I also made a 3D, wiggly owl for the cover, for reasons that are as yet unclear. I wasn't really sure which tense to use for the instructions and I am worried it might sound aggressive.
I watched a truly wonderful documentary last night called "half the sky" based on the book by the same name. It was about the abuse of women's basic human rights across the globe, and it was jaw droppingly sad, and inspiring in equal measures. (Please stay with me?!) The book was written- and the tv series presented- by this couple, both writers for the New York Times, who feel that gender inequality is unquestionably the greatest impediment to a civilised planet the world will face this century. It looked at sex trafficking, education of girls and female circumcision amongst other things. So interesting, and quite staggering. The things that go on! It made me think about a conversation I had recently with two of my pals-both lasses- about the relevancy of feminism to people like us; or more specifically the young women we know and their reluctance to associate themselves with the term 'feminist'. To me it's a no brainer, and actually something that I get emotional(hysterical) about.* How can we be happy to accept all the progress we owe to the feminist movement, and at the same time acknowledge all the inequality we still have to overcome, yet refuse to align ourselves with the 'brand' as it were? To me it's almost offensive, but I also have to acknowledge that most of my female friends wouldn't call themselves feminists. They are all intelligent, ambitious and confident women, who would, if challenged, say they expect equality to men, yet they don't want to say they're a feminist. Most of them don't think that we do live in a particularly unequal society any more (despite what I deem evidence to the contrary), and most of them associate the term 'feminism' with an outdated cliche of the aggressive, man-hating political mould that they feel to be almost ridiculous nowadays. That model is for a start, not what feminism means to me anyway, but I also think that to ridicule even this style of feminism is to deny its importance in history. Like the radical black power groups in the states who were hostile to whites, its of course not ideal, but in my opinion it's a necessary part of African American progress, to the establishing of their own self worth. The same applies to the feminist equivalent. Without the women who were vehemently anti-male, or more importantly aggressively pro female, things wouldn't have progressed as much for women. They are part of the success of the feminist movement and therefore part of any of the benefits we enjoy today, even if their hostility to men jars with the true meaning of feminism- which is of course equality. I also don't understand why women in this country think they do have equal status as men, when unarguable data such as comparative wage rates, rape convictions (or lack of) and poor percentile representation in politics show the total opposite. And that's just in the UK. When you look at global women's issues, it's utterly depressing. All over Asia, Africa and the Middle East, women are second class citizens. Take a place like Sierra Leon, where rape and abuse toward women and children goes almost entirely unpunished. Rather the victims themselves are blamed and ostracised from their families and communities, whilst the perpetrators will be unlucky to be even questioned by police, never mind held accountable. It's a place where little girls have their genitals mutilated in the name of culture; where they don't receive even a basic education or chance to exist as an economically independent adult. A place where they will die at the average age of 43 due to poverty. Even if you don't think feminism is relevant to your individual circumstance, surely we have to acknowledge its importance and need on a global scale? To be honest, I think at its root, reluctance to say your a feminist, is because its seen as being unattractive to men. I'd be lying if I said it was something I myself was keen to bring up during a first date, but that's something I'm actually quite ashamed of. I don't want a boyfriend who thinks its unattractive to believe that I'm just as valuable as him. If saying you're a feminist throws up connotations of hairy armpits, dungarees and aggressive political rhetoric, then that's a pretty limited scope you've got regarding equality, WHICH IS WHAT FEMINISM MEANS. Anyway I am not ashamed to say I've dabbled with all three of those character traits (especially dungarees) and I didn't notice it impeding my ability to trick someone into going out with me. I think things like the making of a 3D cookbook featuring woodland creatures has more to do with my 'wandering lonely as a cloud' status. I'm not sure how I've managed to end this rant on a "how to get a boyfriend" note, but it seems I have. How depressing. Watch the programme anyway. It's fab. And George Cluny is in it!!!! Bet he likes a dungaree. I wonder if rambling on about a tv programme for 3/4 an entry counts as travel blogging? Does the rest of it? Talking about a bus I caught and a sandwich I saw through a window isn't really V S Naipaul, is it. (Rhetorical.)
The family are back tomorrow. I'm so glad. I haven't spoken to a soul since Thursday (Monday now) other than the shop assistants where I go to stock up on coffee, my old friend. When you live alone, your real eating and drinking habits become revealed; there is nobody else to blame for the three packets of coffee you get through in 10 days. No wonder I'm anxious. I really need to talk to someone soon, or I fear I will go bonkers. The Internet isn't even working at the old folks community centre where I usually lurk (yes it is weird and no it has not gone unnoticed). I had to check my facebook by lurking in the frozen produce aisle of a supermarket. I felt really nervous and was sweating a lot like I was doing something wrong. My solitude must be leading to mild paranoia. On that note, goodbye. I'm going to make some cheering bannocks.
PS mam, if you're reading this, I don't have blood poisoning, they are likely just common house spiders, and I am probably not yet an official target of any chemical warfare plans by Kim Jong what's his chops. I will call you if any of these suppositions change, because whilst I don't have Colombian 999 to hand I do have YOUR number, which is a genuine- if geographically misguided- comfort.
* In fairness to my pals, whatever their stance on the matter really is, the joy they get from watching me implode into a humourless rant about Lap-dancing, in front of strangers (excessive spittle included), probably means I will never really know the truth.
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