Most-Purpose Straight-Forward Cards

I have finally gotten around to doing a DIY! As in, a tutorial created by me!

This is a really simple idea for handmade cards that takes almost no time (...unless you are being really picky with the patterns, which I may have been). They work for Christmas, birthdays and most other ocassional that include presents. However, you don't have to be giving a present with the card; last year I gave Christmas presents to my closest friends and these cards to all the rest.

Due to the lack of quality of my camera, it is in instagrams, because they sorta mask the otherwise-even-more-crappy photos. Once I had the instagrams, it didn't seem to need any detail, so 'tis just pictures, no text. If you have queries please ask in a comment and I will be happy to help/add instructions.

So, here you go...


Simple? Do you like it?



The Eye Candy That Music Videos Can Be {ONE}

Hey Readers!

 In the world of feminism, music videos can tend to get a pretty bad write up: glorified masculinity, highly misogynistic portrayal of women  and all emphasized by the patriarchal bullshit soaked lyrics. But equally the music video is becoming one the most creative, beautiful and experimental modern art forms. Not that I need to tell you guys about how pretty music videos can be; the likelihood is that you are a blogger, and therefore by definition super indie and interesting with a music taste to match. Therefore we can celebrate this wondrous art form together, through what will hopefully develop into a little regular thing where I just share my favorite eye candy from the realms of music videos.







Let's be honest guys: this is a pretty terrible outfit post

Hey Readers!

 Because of peer pressure and blogger's influence and stuff, I've done an outfit post. But the pictures are pretty terrible so, like, erm yeah.

Feminists on Tour T, DIYed



Badassery and Charity

Hey there.
Here is a DIY of a barbed wire bracelet, something I have been looking for for a while (two "for"s next to each other in a sentence, weird). You may think I am some form of twisted, masochistic being for wanting a barbed wire bracelet (although its not actually barbed wire, as that is the point).
Slightly off topic, I think I use too many parenthesis when I write.

Back on track, I was hoping to stumble upon a barbed wire bracelet, although ideally it was a headband, because, not only does it look badass, but because of its symbolism in my mind of this thing called:

For those of you who have not heard of it, Amnesty International is a large human rights organisation which you can read more about here. I think it is a great cause and call out to you fellow humans to join and help stop stoning (yes, it is legal in some countries to stone people to death, FOR ADULTERY), forced evictions, torture and many other atrocities that take place in this world. You can just sign up for the emailing list to be notified when big actions could really use your help to put on intonational pressure, but if you get a membership you get a t-shirt ;) Plus, if you are a young person I think the membership is only around £5 a year, AND THE MONEY GOES TO A GOOD CAUSE!
So please go and help the world! (And make a badass bracelet. See what I say about overusing  parenthesis?)



Gender equality and violence

This image was posted on my school's Feminist Society facebook page. It was then proceeded with a short debate, which was nicely free from mindless sexist arguments, and covered the usual ideas surrounding the debate on gender violence. Then I posted a reply I was so proud of I thought I would allow myself a small bit of indulgence and share it with y'all:

The whole gender violence debate is a really grey area for feminists, as yeah, in a gender equal society violence would be a problem in itself and people's gender wouldn't come into it. However, we do not live in a gender equal society - we live in one with historical patriarchal structures. This is why violence against women by men tends to be seen as a bigger problem for feminism, as violence (inc. rape) are tools for oppression and therefore reinforces the perception of men as dominant. There is also growing concern for male victims of domestic violence who are equally damaged by the issue, but have been ignored by both society and feminists (until recently). But the real heart of this issue is domestic violence and abusive relationships which are hugely damaging to the victim, regardless of gender. It is this that feminists are really trying to stop, I know at least for myself I really don't care about the gender of either the victim or perpetrator.




Now I have a chance to breathe

Hey Readers!

 I am finally blogging. After months of begrudged silence, my fingers are finally tapping across the keys talking to people who maybe care a bit more than most of the people I see everyday but in reality still not that much. My show is over, my English coursework is in and my physics ISA is successfully retaken. I'm doing ok in German*. But the foot high pile of books by my bed remains untouched. It's one of the most depressing/exciting sights in the world.

MØ - Slow Love

 So what has happened in my life? Jeez. Where to start? Well, we have had three meetings of my school's new FEMINIST SOCIETY founded and run by yours truly (plus Fleur). Our last meeting was a talk on "Militarization and Patriarchy", which was our best attended (24 humas/uncountable numbers of bacteria) yet, and also longest (didn't actually leave the school building until quarter to six). As my school's Prof of Arts and Humanities likes to say - "we're beginning to shake things up around here". I've even been asked to interview the potential new physics teachers as a sexism scout.

 What has basically been my life

 I also got Head Girl! Sort of yay. I never really got the high that you normal get after something like that. It was probably partly because I was feeling disgustingly ill, but it wasn't even that kind of neutrality of an anti-climax, if anything I was just feeling a bit down. Whenever my life has been crazily busy and stressful, when it finally stops and I can have time to bond with sofa, the next day I'll always get into this introverted mood, where my thoughts seem to continuously compete with the external world to be the main part of my consciousness. But this time it was so intense and persistent. And it lasted for days, until I just ended up having a really horrible day on Wednesday.

Prinzegeorge - Victor

 Despite the fact exams are next month I managed to swindle doing nothing yesterday. It was the end of term so my school had Dong Chen (Sixth Form football competition where the lower school get to goggle at sixth form girls running about in almost nothing**) to raise money for Leukemia research. I'm now wearing my "Can you handle this Dong?" T-shirt. Then I popped down into town with Max and Fleur, the latter of whom we discovered as a phobia of topless men. In the evening it was Fleur's 17th party, which was most enjoyable and teenagery.

Claiming my brother's wall



**Year 12 and 13 choose a theme each along the line of slutty-[insert generic predictable theme here]. We had sports, so Fleur and I rocked the Gothic Lesbian Cheerleader look.


At the third hour of the twentieth century.


As the first day blood was spilled in open conflict, the 18th of March marks the start of the revolution in Syria.

I am privileged to have had a classmate telling us all this, reading the below poem in assembly and organising a workshop I will be attending this evening on the conflict in which over 150 thousand Syrians lost their lives in the conflict, and left over 2 million refugees, and 4.250,000 IDPs (internally displaced persons), a student from Syria who keeps telling us nobody is a number or photo or advertising piece for the media. Think about that last one –newspapers care about being sold, they decide what they publish based on what we want to read.

I know we can’t really do much ourselves, but at least we can try to learn.



By Muhammad Al-Maghout (1934-2006)



At the third hour of the twentieth century

Where nothing separates the corpses

from pedestrians’ shoes

except asphalt

I will lie down in the middle of the street

like a bedouin sheikh

and will not get up

until all the prison bars and suspects’ files of the world

are gathered and placed before me

so I can chew on them

like a camel on the open road

Until all the batons of the police and protesters

escape from grips

and go back (once again)

budding branches in their forests

In the dark I laugh

I cry

I write

I no longer distinguish my pen from my fingers

Whenever someone knocks or a curtain moves

I hide my papers

like a prostitute during a police raid

From whom did I inherit this fear

and this blood

scared like a mountain leopard?

As soon as I see an official paper on the threshold

or a hat through the door

my bones and tears tremble

my blood runs away in all directions

as if an eternal patrol of ancestral police

is chasing it from one vein to another

O darling

In vain I try to reclaim my courage and strength

The tragedy is not here

in the whip, the office, or in sirens

It is there

In the cradle. . .

In the womb

Surely I was not tied to the womb with an umbilical cord

It was a hangman’s noose



Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...