My view: Snow white montains

Read the Printed Word!

Me: 26, blond, blue eyed. From a country where the winters are long and cold, and the summers full of rain.

Felt the need to try out Tumblr - for a chance to reblog the awesome stuff I find on the 'net every day.

caffeinated-much:

fannishbeth:

twinntastic-vegan-princes:

evilfeminist:

Today, I read an article about a woman with HIV who was raped. The man that attacked her is now HIV positive. All of the commentary surround this was about how she should have told him she was HIV+ and that women with HIV should have a badge or special underwear so that this doesn’t happen to another man. It is 12:12am and I am already done with the world. 

That is rape culture

THIS POST WINS FOR THE MOST HORRIFYING THING I’VE READ ALL DAY

This is all kinds of not okay!

(via ninathebored)

A boy sprawled next to me on the bus, elbows out, knee pointing sharp into my thigh.
He frowned at me when I uncrossed my legs, unfolded my hands
and splayed out like boys are taught to: all big, loose limbs.
I made sure to jab him in the side with my pretty little sharp purse.
At first he opened his mouth like I expected him to, but instead of speaking up he sat there, quiet, and took it for the whole bus ride.
Like a girl.

Once, a boy said my anger was cute, and he laughed,
and I remember thinking that I should sit there and take it,
because it isn’t ladylike to cause a scene and girls aren’t supposed to raise their voices.
But then he laughed again and all I saw
was my pretty little sharp nails digging into his cheek
before drawing back and making a horribly unladylike fist.
(my teacher informed me later that there is no ladylike way of making a fist.)

When we were both in the principal’s office twenty minutes later
him with a bloody mouth and cheek, me with skinned knuckles,
I tried to explain in words that I didn’t have yet
that I was tired of having my emotions not taken seriously
just because I’m a girl.

Girls are taught: be small, so boys can be big.
Don’t take up any more space than absolutely necessary.
Be small and smooth with soft edges
and hold in the howling when they touch you and it hurts:
the sandpaper scrape of their body hair that we would be shamed for having,
the greedy hands that press too hard and too often take without asking permission.

Girls are taught: be quiet and unimposing and oh so small
when they heckle you with their big voices from the window of a car,
because it’s rude to scream curse words back at them, and they’d just laugh anyway.
We’re taught to pin on smiles for the boys who jeer at us on the street
who see us as convenient bodies instead of people.

Girls are taught: hush, be hairless and small and soft,
so we sit there and take it and hold in the howling,
pretend to be obedient lapdogs instead of the wolves we are.
We pin pretty little sharp smiles on our faces instead of opening our mouths,
because if we do we get accused of silly women emotions
blowing everything out of proportion with our PMS, we get
condescending pet names and not-so-discreet eyerolls.

Once, I got told I punched like a girl.
I told him, Good. I hope my pretty little sharp rings leave scars.

—'My Perfume Doubles As Mace,' theappleppielifestyle. (via albinwonderland)

(Source: theappleppielifestyle, via starspangledman)

fateliveswithinus:

rotbtd-thebigfour:

jumpingjacktrash:

ironinomicon:

screwyou-imhilarious:

misssquare:

ferocious-fangirl-ofdisneyland:

disneyprincess10:

No thanks

A guy at a princess store in Disneyland was asking me if I related to Merida in any way and I was like

“I don’t know man. I’m more of an Elinor.”

And he busted out laughing.

What I love most about this movie is that shows that being a princess is not wearing a beautiful dress, marrying a prince and live happily ever after, but a job, a hard job with duties and responsibilities were a lot of people depend on you

being the Lady of a medieval estate was SUCH AN IMPORTANT FUCKING JOB AND SO FUCKING FULL OF HARD WORK WHICH MEDIEVAL MEN ACKNOWLEDGED TBH

(one problem with perception of medieval gender roles is that most of the people who were writing, especially those who were writing HISTORY, were CLERGYMEN who had never been married and lived in a weird situation cut off from the way the rest of the world worked and had like no actual life experience with the real world - and then popular culture’s idea of it has been heavily informed by VICTORIAN choices of who and what to translate and popularize)

upper class medieval women were expected to run and manage the entire estate that they got from their husband (or that they already had in their own right through inheritance or as their marriage portion), a job which was acknowledged as being way difficult and requiring a wife with strength and fortitude and business sense if you wanted to be a successful person

they were the HR managers of households that might have over a hundred people in, and tho a duchess or a queen would certainly not go to the store to do the household shopping, and she probably had a steward to assist her, it was ultimately her responsibility to know what things were needed for that household, to make sure that the appropriate people obtained those things, to oversee the use of the household materials, to make sure that EVERYTHING got done so that ALL those people could live and work smoothly. they wrote letters and managed the business of the estate and networked with other members of the nobility for both important game-of-thrones political reasons and for smaller more personal reasons like ‘that guy has a really nice deer chase, so if i send him some marmalade from our garden, he might send some venison back as a return gift”

even in lower class households mom managed everything and women were basically considered to be shrewder and have better heads for that particularly kind of business than men and choosing a wise wife was the best thing you could do for yourself as a man who intended to be successful

they were like hands-on CEOs and shit yo and don’t get me wrong society was sexist as fuck and they were limited as hell in what they could do and everything was classist beyond belief but no way was being a noblewoman just a matter of sitting up a tower looking pretty & the contributions that they made are so important

also, the ladies of castles were responsible for defense when their husband was away at war (which happened a lot), so while personally participating in battle was unusual (though not entirely unheard-of) they did often find themselves in strategic command. and in wartime they frequently functioned as a sort of de facto logistics officer.

oh, and has anyone mentioned diplomacy. because an arranged marriage is only the START of a princess’s diplomatic career. the alliance she forges with her marriage is one she’s responsible for maintaining her entire life. unless she decides to go ahead and take over the country; that’s been an option too from time to time. :D

suddenly i really want to see a disney movie about a princess AFTER the wedding — forging a political bond with her new husband, defending the castle, sending troops and supplies to make sure he comes home from the war, reading secret reports from her spies in the enemy’s court… *swoon*

image

YES.

And I’ve tried to touch on this with Merida, because ALL OF THIS? THIS is why Merida has absolutely ZERO desire to get married or (eventually) become Queen. Because it means her life - every second of her free time - going down the drain as she becomes more and more tangled up in running the castle AND the kingdom.

(This is also why Elinor’s such a freaking BAMF, she’s got this shit down, man.)

(Source: theladyelsa, via misscampground)

Why Hannibal is the Most Life-Affirming Show on Television

girlmeetssherlock:

Can something in the horror genre be called life-affirming?

That’s the strange question I wrestle with as I watch Hannibal each week and come away with a new-found appreciation for the preciousness of fleeting human existence.

It’s not that I quarrel with the designation of the show as horror. The images of the slain, while aesthetically brilliant, are certainly disturbing enough to warrant the word, and the surrealism of Will Graham’s inner journey is horrifying in another way.

At the same time, there’s something at the core of what Hannibal is as a series that doesn’t belong in the same neighborhood as slashers like House of Wax or torture porn like the Saw franchise.

It really hit me this past week, when episode 5, “Mukozuke,” revealed the slain body of Beverly Katz. Beverly was a forensics expert whose scientific knowledge outpaced her human understanding, ultimately leading to her demise. Though her death was not shown on screen the previous week, the revelation of her body was no surprise. Vivisected into smaller and smaller segments, Beverley looked like a once-living museum exhibit, posed almost as if she might somehow come back together and breathe again.

It was, without a doubt, horrifying. It was also strangely respectful. I’ve tried to understand why I found the image so moving, and I think it’s because of how personal it was, how respectful to who Beverly was and what her life accomplished.

Respectful? Yes, in an odd way. Regular viewers of the series know that Hannibal Lecter will kill anyone, but his manner of dispatching them reflects his admiration or lack thereof of who they chose to be in life. Even the people he likes the very least, however, he accords the respect of using in some way. (Yes, he’s a cannibal, but there’s more to it than that.)

Am I saying Hannibal Lecter is an admirable character? No, and the show wouldn’t have us think so. He’s not even likable. Fascinating, yes, but certainly not someone who engenders, like many beloved characters, the passionate wish that he might actually be real. He makes us quite glad he isn’t—and perhaps a bit more wary of the potential Hannibal Lecter lurking in each one of us.

And yet, there’s one thing Hannibal—and Hannibal as a show—do, that I find lacking in most television, especially among the trendy shows that people are always telling me I need to watch: They calculate the cost of life.

A disturbing number of shows today of all genres are basically nihilistic. People live. People die, whether naturally or through nefarious means, but none of it much matters. Sadistic serial killersbuild up body counts. Empty comedieslaugh their way through chilling cynicism. Other serious shows, while very well written, leave us strangely unfulfilled. We get the feeling that they’re trying to say something big, but in the end, they stand as temples of meaninglessness, because it’s impossible to pull substance out of the absence of a worldview.

 Hannibal is different, and it’s taken me nearly a year to articulate why. 

It’s not just an aesthetic difference. Countless, well-deserved tribute articles bear witness to the sheer beauty of the world Bryan Fuller has created. It’s stylized; it’s enchanting; it exists as its own character within the framework of the story. But it’s not enough to make the show what it is.

It’s also not only the writing, though that is certainly intelligent, thought-provoking, and often poetic. Lots of shows are that, though, and they still don’t have what Hannibal brings.

The truth of what sets Hannibal apart begins with understanding who Hannibal is and what lies at the heart of what makes him an antagonist. Most shows that portray serial killing love to show deranged maniacs, Joker-esque characters who have no regard for human life. These people, like the character Eddie Izzard plays on Hannibal, put Lecter in sharp relief, etching out what it is that makes him different.

 Hannibal isn’t evil because he devalues human life. He’s evil because he understands exactly how precious it is and chooses to take it anyway. He’s been likened to Lucifer. He’s a character who believes himself to be so far above everyone else that he has a godlike right to decide who continues to enjoy the priceless gift of existence and who doesn’t. When he’s not killing, his every action points to the meaningfulness of moments and the crime of wasting even a single one. When he kills, he does so with awareness that the act bears incredible weight. His flaw isn’t in throwing people away. It’s in believing that he has the authority to be their god.

If Lecter is the dark articulation of this worldview, Will Graham is the light. Cursed with a gift of empathy, he can’t solve murders without reliving them—as the murderer. This means that the viewer is never treated to violence as an impersonal or unimportant act. When Will, in the mind of each killer, goes through the motions of murder, as if his own hands were the tools, we are forced to remember that both victim and perpetrator are people—real people with lives and stories and souls. Life is never snuffed out casually. The moment of each death is a moment of profound loss, and the show invites us to enter into the grief we ought to feel at the thought of anyone’s life being taken by another.

And so, while we are given hints of what Hannibal does to Beverly Katz, it is Will we see actually killing her, as he empathizes with Lecter to understand the murder. Dark and light merge, because we know we’re seeing Will but experiencing Hannibal. What we feel in the end, though, is where the two characters’ worldviews converge.

Life is unimaginably precious, says Hannibal, as he chooses to kill Beverley in an intensely personal way and then display her in a way that pays tribute to her genius. Life is unimaginably precious, says Will, as he painfully relives Beverley’s death and vows to stop the one responsible.

The viewer is angry, not because Hannibal devalued Beverley Katz, but because he valued himself so highly that he considered a priceless woman’s murder his right. And we side with Will, not because he’s perfect, but because the raw nerve endings of his empathy are constant reminders that pain matters, that every person’s life has meaning, and that murder is the greatest violation of all.

Hannibal is a show that horrifies by making us question our complacency about the march toward nihilism in the world around us, and through its portrayal of both evil and good, invites us to rediscover the true preciousness of the existence we’ve been given.

 Yes, Hannibal is intensely disturbing, but for the viewer who dares to take the journey, it is also deeply and profoundly affirming.

(via weunderstandthelights)