I’m feeling muffled by my own self image of myself lol I mean, I’ve always been really sure and clear about my pro choice stance, it has been a certainty to me. I’ve never had a hint of doubt about the right of women to control their bodies, our bodies…
Thing is I’ve been living this “ideal” way too closely lately. And I’m facing serious doubts about the repercussions “having a choice” is having within my society.
I myself wouldn’t do it to be perfectly honest, but I always thought it was women right to chose, and that I still think it. I still think it’s every women right to decide if she wants to be a mother or not and when she’d want to be a mom. So far I’m still good with it.
But you see, this year only within my closest personal circle (in laws, close friends) I’ve witnessed and accompanied 4 women to get abortions, 4 adults, professional, capable women to the abortion clinic to “get rid” of the inconvenience… And it have wounded me every single time.
I just … I just don’t “feel” it’s right.
Those were lives that could have been full of joy and love… But that’s not what causes me more pain, it’s actually the cold indifference and the lack of struggle I see to take such a drastic measure… It means nothing to them and I guess that’s cool cuz there’s no sadness or repentance, it’s like nothing happened…
So I think I should change my stance on it from “pro choice” to a I strongly support birth control but not abortion.
It’s hard to even think about it. But that’s how I feel 😦
Water colors on notebook page. Inspired by a thought Leny wrote to me few nights ago. Hair filtering what comes out : P
This is one of the center pieces on the body paint I’m working on. It’s a “quetzal”, Guatemalan national bird and Maya sacred bird.
Legend says that during Spain’s invasion to Iximché, the Qui’che fortress city, the brave young prince Tecún Uman was mortally wounded by Spaniard vile general Don Pedro de Alvarado.
When the young prince fell, a beautiful quetzal went to rest over his chest, both died there and since that day, quetzals have their chest painted in bright red. Tainted by the Qui’che Prince’s blood.
warning: this post is annoyingly personal and contains a lot of the usual lovelylollipop’s drama lol
*sigh* I’m kind’a back, not really but I feel the need to speak/write something, I have been avoiding it on purpose, mostly out of a huge sentiment of guilt, spiced up with some shame and more guilt 😛
where were we last time? I think it was when I traveled to Mexico City (I’m from Guatemala) when things started to mix and mess in my real life. Coming back was hard and mostly complex but the change was done and aside of long work hours things were looking okay the first month (october). I came here to fix Zara’s legal status as her dad is mexican and needed to resign custody for me to have the freedom to move around and travel with her… which basically meant she left my country ilegally (dad needed to sign her out of Guatemala but he couldn’t)… we cross the river 😛
anyway, that’s not why I stopped writting/drawing, at first the pause was due to lack of means, I mean, either I had no laptop, or internet acces, then I had no time (two shifts at work) and the lilk time I had, I used to be with family and talk to Leny (text via phone)… but the reason I stopped writting was cuz Leny and I ended up our relationship, and about that, I just have to say that it was all on me and I’m still not over it.
So, I’m sorry about the long pause and I’m even more sorry cuz I’m selfish enough to come back the minute I feel the imperius need to share and write, so feel free to give me the finger and pass over this 😛 seriously I understand and there no harsh feelings 🙂
Zara is great, happy as ever and Lily ended up being a male cat instead of a girl cat as formerly thought, so the cat is huge and he is still named Lily… I’m happy and missing yall as hell.
Lots of hugs to all 🙂
this model will be performed in bodypaint the next May 30 at the 7mo Encuentro de Maquillaje Corporal Fonanbules en el Centro de Mexico Contemporaneo by yours trully. It’s possibly one of the few things I’ve done this past 6 months. Represents a kite, the theme of the show is “Language ann tongues” and my concept is about the giant kites that are elevated to the sky on Novemeber first in Guatemala, it’s called “Words to the Gods” cuz our kites are used to send “telegrams” either to deities or ancestors in the sky.
what can one say about blue eyes that haven’t been said a million times before, the feral shine of ice burning through all heart and matter, cuz the love we know, means nothing to his ancient soul that only knows the eternal struggle, the unrelenting fire of a battle that have lasted for eons
the birth of a universe takes time and pain
defending an unknown gate, a treasure no one else has ever saw, under the green sky of an alien cave, from ages before this age, a soft song grows inside a cocoon, a white silky womb keeps the tiny notes safe, flowing and blooming, revolving in their mighty uterus … his treasure, his burden and destination… evolves and drips tingling drops of clarity
and he stands, sword in hand, feeding himself with anger and sweat, forever fighting his violent war because the womb/uterus needs the hostile wound of the sword to keep birthing songs.
no words or just few words
it took it forever for the lil piece of charcoal
to create a shining world, a transparent web made out of tiny fragile beads …
each bead meant a piece of the charcoal, dissolved and carefully crafted, to make it clear and sweet and beautiful
each bead meant a small but capricious land,
as if carved out of its own womb, the dark piece of worthless matter, took away from deep inside, minuscule particules, pristine tingling drops of love
on every brush and touch the charcoal tried to conjure all the beauty it never witnessed … on ever bit of salty tears the humble material, tried to give birth to something impossible.
all night was the discardable creature, knitting and singing soft lullabies to the dream it was building, the night was long and the web was somehow magical, the night was protective and the cool of the winds made the strings of tears, dance swiftly and happily
and when the lil humble charcoal was absorbed, fascinated by the gorgeous shine of the dream created, without a single sound, fast and warm as if it wanted to surprise, the morning came and the light destroyed the shivering fantasy in front of the charcoal horrified eyes…
with just a smile the charcoal retreated to its humid cave, because the dream it had dreamt for a summer night, it lasted a second in front of its eyes, but it’ll burn forever in the charcoal’s heart.
The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones
wax crayon, pencil, ink
She is the main character in a story I have been playing with on my personal blog. I have 2 to 3 more parts to write and then she may randomly appear in pieces from time to time. This is Part 2 of the story.