#a strong choice in my fucked up sect of the country

[danasmonster]

Comparing the SKAM Remakes: SANA (Part I)

Sana (SKAM original)

Sana is constantly having to defend and explain herself to others - her friends, her family, strangers. We see this with Vilde when she says Sana can’t have sex, and Sana clarifies that by explaining that she can have sex, she just chooses not to. There is also the assumption that Sana isn’t interested in boys or that she can’t participate in russefeiring “because she’s not ‘allowed’ to drink alcohol.” We see it with her parents when she has to explain to her mom that not all aspects of Islam fit her, and with her brother when she references him discouraging her from wearing a hijab in order to fit in more and avoid stigma. And finally, she explains during her season that she has experienced watching her brother being spit on, being asked racist questions, and other rude or hateful acts because she and her family are Muslim. 

The struggle to be both Norwegian and Muslim turns into a competition she gets lost in, and she ends up doing some very non-Muslim things like bully the Pepsi Max squad and lie in order to procure a russ bus. She also develops feelings for former Muslim and current atheist Yusef, which opens up an internal debate about the “Muslims only marry Muslims” rule.  

With all of her bitchiness, her prickliness, her rudeness and her mistakes, I still absolutely adore Sana. She is strong, outspoken, and takes absolutely no shit from anyone. Her story is so incredibly relevant to the world as a whole because of the way a lot of people view Islam or other “restrictive” aspects/sects of Christianity or other religions. It is a reminder that ultimately we should strive to love and understand each other, whether you are a theist or an atheist, a Muslim or a Norwegian. All is love. 

Everything I Love:

The opening scene with the contrast between Sana’s view from the bus with terrorist attacks and None of Dem by Robyn & Royksopp is so fun, & the look Sana gives the woman giving her a look over on the bus is pure Sana perfection 

The scene when Elias called Sana a slave woman and all of his friends gave him a verbal beatdown 

When we heard that Eskild was redecorating Noora’s room without her permission 

The Hot in Here scene with all the Balloon Squad working out while the girl squad ogles them, and the way Sana visibly snaps herself out of her trance. Also the shot of them coming up the street with a bunch of balloons to meet the girls is iconic

The way Yousef comes over to talk to Sana while she is over in the corner being a grump on the bus - I knew there was a reason she and Isak became friends. They’re both grumpy pants. 

When Sana catches Yousef dancing in her living room

The happy little look on her face when Yousef sends her a friend request on Facebook. She always smiles so freaking bright when she’s having fun with him

When Yousef showed off his carrot peeling skills

The way the Pepsi Max squad always has Pepsi 

When Yousef took the rap for the vodka left out at Sana’s party, then Sana was hit with a metaphorical brick when Yousef told her he isn’t Muslim. You could see the shock on her face, and now she is conflicted because “Muslims only marry Muslims” and she clearly has already developed feelings for Yousef

When Sana and Noora drink coffee and bask in their solidarity that Vilde and Magnus are gross

When Sana and Yousef play basketball together and we see her smile - we have NEVER seen her smile like that. And then they have a heart to heart about their individual religious beliefs and it is PURE GOLD

“I just feel like Islam, or religion in general, creates a lot of anxiety in people . . . I personally feel like I’ve taken the best out of the religion and thrown away the rest. It’s like, compassion towards others, being grateful for what’s best, having compassion. That’s it. Don’t you think I can remember to be a good person without praying?” - Yousef

“For me, everything can be total chaos during the day, but the moment I start to pray, everything turns quiet and clear. Because even though there’s all this chaos, you’ll remember what really matters. It’s fine because everything has a bigger context and a meaning. Because every little part of the universe is so complex. Imagine that! Even the brain of a cockroach has greater meaning on earth. I just can’t believe all of that is a coincidence,” - Sana

Her chat with Elias was also fantastic

“What’s more important, saying you believe in Allah or behaving as though you believe in Allah?” - Elias

Watching everyone join in during “Imagine” definitely almost had me tearing up - another song added to my playlist. Honestly this scene was so sweet and touching and then everything just came crashing down. It was intense. And Sana’s face just looked freaking broken. Then when she overheard that her suspicions about being pushed out of the group because she’s Muslim were correct it was like an extra stab through the heart

The scene where she’s walking through the schoolyard was excellent - very reminiscent of Isak’s similar scene, and another way in which the two of them parallel one another 

And this line is so, so true from Sana to Isak regarding why she never told Isak she knew Even before he met Isak

“I think Even should get to choose for himself how much he wants to share about his past. I mean, you might not want to share every thing about your past.”

When Sana and Jamilla have the conversation about all the different ways people fast, and Jamilla references her friend who won’t even swallow her own spit. So this friend goes around spitting all the time while she’s fasting. “She’s really confident about it, too.” 

Both Sana’s expression of how she thinks the world views her and Isak’s response are very powerful

Sana: “Do you know what people think when they see me, when they see my hijab, which is the first thing they see? They think I’m wearing it because I’m forced to, not because I want to. And if I say it’s because I want to, then I’m just oppressed because I can’t have my own opinion. We talk about freedom of religion and all kinds of freedoms here in Norway, but being allowed to wear an extra piece of clothing, that’s wrong? Do you know what people do when they see Elias and I walking down the street? They spit at him because they think he’s oppressing me! He doesn’t even want me to wear the hijab because he doesn’t want me to get hate. Do you know how fucking tiring it is to walk out the door everyday knowing it’s yet another day where you have to prove to a whole country that you’re not oppressed . . . I’ve received so many dumb, racist questions in my life.”

Isak: “The dumb questions are so fucking important. People can’t stop asking the dumb questions because when they stop asking the dumb questions they start making up their own answers. And that’s dangerous. You just have to stop looking for racism in dumb questions. Even if they feel racist, it’s so fucking important to answer them.”

The Los Losers bus definitely had me tearing up

When Linn admitted to sending a used tampon to someone who flirted with the boy she liked 

When we see Eskild picking up his guru mantle once more and he compares The Bible to Beyoncé . . . “The Bible says ‘The greatest of these is love’ or as Beyoncé would say ‘Love on top,’” while giving Sana advice

Noora’s face both when she saw William getting out of his car and when she got out of his after a four day sex and talk marathon

The conversation between Sana and her mom about why it is important for her to eventually marry someone who understands her beliefs and reminds her of them, not because she should be Muslim but because she chooses to be Muslim and she “would be very lonely if she were the only one in the relationship who believes.” So, whether or not she marries a nonbeliever or a non-Muslim is Sana’s choice, but there would be essential parts of Sana’s own wellbeing that would effected if she chose to go that route because her faith is an essential part of who she is. 

The conversation with Noora was equally important. They may not necessarily be fated to be together, but there is a reason this person (Yousef) came into Sana’s life and avoiding him would be ignoring this sign from fate that this person is supposed to be a part of her life right now. Life is now. 

When Yousef and Sana have yet another philosophical/religious discussion and Yousef proposes: “Maybe that’s why society needs religion. Democracy isn’t based on the idea that all people are different. It’s based on the idea that all people have equal worth. And that idea doesn’t exactly come from science. But I don’t think it helps to pretend there aren’t prejudices. What you have to do instead is show what Islam is.” 

And The Finale!!!

When Vilde was putting on her makeup and listening to Pretty Hurts by Beyoncé, and everything else about her segment. I loved getting that glimpse into some of her life and mind for a little while. I’m still disappointed she never got to tell us her story during the original SKAM.

When Eva reminds Chris that he’s a fuckboy so they can never be together. Sure he’s momentarily disappointed and probably felt sad for a little bit, but he was really quick to move on to Emma - proving Eva was smarter than him and knew him better than he knew himself. Seriously though the scene where Penetrator Chris and Emma first see each other is fucking awesome

I LOVE LOVE LOVE that the school nurse has a big white dildo on the desk next to her while she has her chat with Chris

When we see Even stressing over making Isak’s birthday perfect 

The interaction between Eskild and Linn when Eskild tells Linn she has to wear a hijab to Sana’s party because Sana is Muslim was hilarious. And then he told her they are always going to be there for each other and it got me right in the feels

And then when Eskild was proposing he, Noor, and Linn could share everything together if William moved in . . . shampoo, and William, and dish soap . . . 

Then Vilde to Chris; “You know why you’re my best friend? Because no matter how hard my day is, you always find a way to make me laugh. Sometimes it makes you feel better to pretend that you’re fine.” 

And the final speech!!!!

“Dear Sana, This speech is for you. And you’re getting it because what you’re inviting us to today overthrows American presidents tomorrow. We live in a chaotic world where it is difficult to understand the rules. Because why are some people poor and other people rich? Why do some people have to be refugees while others are safe? And why is it that sometimes even though you try to do something good it’s still met with hate?

It’s not weird that people give up, that they stop believing the good. But thank you so much for not giving up, Sana. Because even though it sometimes feels like it no one is ever alone. Each and everyone of us is part of the big chaos. And what you do today has an effect tomorrow.

it can be hard to say exactly what kind of effect, and usually you can’t see how everything fits together. But the effects of your actions are always there, somewhere in the chaos. In 100 years we may have machines that can predict effects of every action but until then we can trust this: Fear spreads But… But, fortunately love does too.”

I’m going to go cry now. 

[coeurvrai]

Guess what? I’m back on my bullshit and that means getting through more chapters of this book, no matter how much I don’t like it. I took a break because stuff came up and then I just needed to chill for a few days cause like, otherwise I’m never gonna get through it.

But I’m here now and being here means starting this off again with another Nadya chapter. I am absolutely delighted to find out what this brilliant plan of theirs is gonna be to infiltrate the palace and then assassinate the king. We start off, ofc, with another excerpt from the Codex of the Divine.

There are no ancient records of the goddess of light, Zvonimira. There are whispers, rumors, threads of truth or fiction that say that she is the youngest in the pantheon, but who truly knows how the gods come to be? Like Alena, Zvonimira has never bestowed her powers upon a chosen cleric.

Well, usually they are just ARE or they are born from other gods. Also, I don’t know why we have a goddess of light. Like that’s Fine, nothing inherently wrong or stupid about that, but considering we have a limited pantheon (of 20, if you can’t remember), the fact that “light” doesn’t somehow inherently come under either Alena or Krsnik or even Horz’s domain is just like, okay lmao

Nadya and co. are now making their way to Tranavia, now that Parijahan is in a state to make the trip. Malachiasz mentions that blood magic is a part of daily life and taking it out would be VERY, very bad.

“It builds over time, magic does. Especially blood magic. It’s so accessible. You don’t have to have a true affinity for it to use it in small spells; you just need to know how to channel your own blood through the written conduits. After enough years pass, it becomes routine—fishermen cast spells to keep lines from breaking, bakers cast to keep their bread rising, the like—removing it would fundamentally destroy what has built the country up.”

So, the impression I’m getting is that blood magic is capable of just basically anything and everything. “Magic builds up over time.” There, fixed. Also what does that even mean? How does magic build up? Do you mean your reserves of magic build up over time, so it’s easier to tap into? Do you mean in like the environment, in a sense, that everything is just imbued with blood magic? Also I assume purchasing books or pages must be cheap or very accessible cause otherwise how does anything work? 

But what if you can’t access an Arcanist (a person who writes the spells), then what do you do? The mention previously of Malachiasz writing his own spells, and that people normally get pre-written/pre-loaded, but like why? If different occupations need different spells to help along with their job, that’s a lot to rely on a presumably specific sect of people to write them out for you. Also how was blood magic even discovered in the first place? Because the pages are the inherently magical thing, right? The blood just activates it for you to use.

“Sew that into the sleeve of your coat. Cutting the palm of your hand and fingers hurts more than cutting the back. The razor is treated so the cuts won’t scar.”

Treated with what, magic? Also I don’t know enough about biology or self harm to say whether cutting the back of your hand hurts less, or why would you care about scarring? Does a build up of scar tissue mean that it will be harder to cut yourself/draw blood, especially if you keep doing it to the same place?

So along the road to Tranavia, there are shrines placed all over the place and Nadya wants to attend to every single one.

After the third one they passed, Malachiasz stopped to wait for Nadya while the others walked on ahead.

She could feel his gaze on her as she worked. This shrine was dedicated to Vaclav so Nadya was taking extra time to ensure it was spotless when she left it. Vaclav was a darker god, chaotic and strong-willed, and Nadya was careful to stay on his good side.

Vaclav is the god of forests and truth, btw. But like what? We never got that impression from what little we’ve been told so far about him. He blessed some triplets with a Russian, Greek, and Roman name respectively, and Nadya has used his power two whole fucking times. Also what makes him “darker”? Aren’t they all shining beacons of holiness and divinity? The fact that he’s chaotic?

Like she’s used his powers before and there was no mention of Nadya having to do anything special or specific to use them, she used them as brazenly as she uses the rest, whenever she remembers that she is a fucking Cleric with access to divine magic.

Nadya and Malachiasz get into a bit of a tizzy about her stopping to clean them all.

Like he was trying so hard to comprehend her strange, pagan ways but simply couldn’t.

PAGAN?! You might argue that Nadya is referring to herself as Malachiasz would refer to them BUT PAGAN!? ISN’T YOUR RELIGION THE MAIN ONE? ISN’T YOUR RELIGION THE ONLY ONE? HOW IS YOUR RELIGION PAGAN WHEN IT’S THE MAIN FUCKING ONE OF THE WHOLE BLOODY WORLD. SHOULDN’T THE TERM PAGAN BE AS INSULTING AS “HERETIC” OR “ABOMINATION” BECAUSE IT IMPLIES INFERIORITY. TRANAVIA DOESN’T HAVE A FUCKING RELIGION, THEY ARE ATHEIST BY ALL THE WORLDBUILDING WE’VE RECEIVED SO FAR, WHY PAGAN?! 

“Having power granted to you, and acknowledging that beings of power exist, isn’t the same as acknowledging that those beings are benevolent or even sentient.”

Sentient? Is Malachiasz impyling that the gods aren’t sentient??? How the fuck does that work then, Malachiasz? Also how is that even relevant? Being benevolent or sentient doesn’t inherently tie into holiness (or power), so I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about. Holiness is to do with things "dedicated to a religious purpose or a god; revered in a religion; perfect or flawless.” 

Like of course one doesn’t beget the other, because those aren’t synonymous at all. Anyways, Malachiasz says that Nadya doesn’t have free-will cause she follows what the gods say.

“I absolutely have a choice.”

“Do you?”

“You’re still alive.”

He immediately fell silent.

I chuckled, I admit it. In another book, this would be much funnier but also darker and effective. But as we’ve all learned over this, this doesn’t matter because it’s an empty threat.

“They talk to me, you know,” she said as she used her sleeve to scrub a patch of lichen off the statue. “They all have their own quirks and desires. Some of them talk to me regularly: Marzenya—my patron—Veceslav, Zvonimira. Others only give me magic when I ask. Some regularly deny my requests. They’re not mere concepts.”

I have seen nobody regularly deny your requests, Nadya. All of the gods so far have bended to your requests and prayers of magic, including Zlatek - who apparently doesn’t like you whatsoever - and Alena - who you’ve only prayed to once before and apparently doesn’t give her powers to Clerics. Also Zvonimira hasn’t said jackshit, nor been mentioned since like the first or second chapter. And the other two I GUESS you could claim talk to you regularly, though only by the needs and whims of the plot.

[it-is-time-lads]

if I do get to go to the used concert near me I will probably wear my placebo shirt to ensure it is obvious to everyone that I am there for Queer Reasons

[otomeshistarlight-blog]

Rant incoming

I was scrolling through the JoJo tag when I saw this post and I just ... I’m really tired y’all.

First of all, according to a google search it looks like the age of consent in Italy is 14 (if I’m wrong, please correct me) so Narancia is very legal, as is Giorno. America’s laws are not universal. The world is not so UScentric that whatever we as a country deem inappropriate is likewise considered to be inappropriate in other countries. There are varying standards throughout different societies and one is not necessarily more correct than the next. Whether or not I think real life fourteen year olds should be having sex is irrelevant- because even if I don’t agree with it, it’s gonna happen anyway - but Narancia is not a real fourteen year old so whatever the law dictates in America OR Italy is irrelevant.

What this boils down to is that there is no victim here. Narancia cannot be taken advantage of. Narancia cannot be sexually assaulted and face the physical/emotional consequences of such trauma. There is nothing inherently wrong with shipping him in ANY pairing, regardless of the ages involved. If I want to write about him getting wrecked by Bruno I will damn well do it because not a single person is being hurt by me doing so. If this is something that triggers you and causes you distress then don’t 👏🏻 fucking 👏🏻 look 👏🏻 at 👏🏻 it. 👏🏻

Fighting for the rights of fictional characters solves nothing. It helps no one. It doesn’t benefit real victims and it sure as hell does not stop real people from being victimized in the first place. This is a nonissue that people are taking up arms over for no reason other than a perceived moral superiority that makes them feel more in control of the world around them. It stems from feeling helpless and lost in a society that doesn’t bend to their every whim. Fandom space is the only place they feel like they have any power so they take on the role of morality police, try to dictate what people can and cannot like, and then accuse anyone who won’t do what they say of heinous crimes. It’s extremely toxic and harmful, not to mention it lessens the severity of sincere pedophile/abuse finger pointing so the chances of a real predator getting away with it are greatly heightened, and I’m just done with it at this point.

Let’s say I’m looking through the porn tags as I am won’t to do and I come across a post that features blatant child porn. Real child porn. The 3D kind that, yknow, actually features real children being exploited and assaulted for realsies. I’m understandably appalled so I file a report with tumblr and they don’t even look at it because they’ve been bombarded for the last year with false harm to minors reports and the user is never penalized for actually doing something inherently wrong and immoral. Y’all have heard about the girl who cried wolf right? Like, y’all know how that story ends don’t you?

But no. Instead of directing your efforts towards anything worthwhile, you’re going to keep going after shippers. And for what? Because oh no, the fictional seventeen year old who could just as likely be nineteen is being paired with a fictional twenty-five year old. The horror. What is the world coming to? Think of the children!

Except ... these supposed children don’t exist. How can you victimize a piece of paper? The same argument applies to loli/shotacon too mind you, and there is no crime in looking at drawings regardless of their perceived age, especially when the topic is anime where you can have a character who looks like a five year old girl and she is in fact a 400 year old vampire. Like?? There is absolutely no logic you can apply to this that has any internal consistency let alone actually makes sense.

Me: these fictional minors don’t even look like sixteen year olds, where have you seen a real teenager who looks like this?

Antis: they look like teens you pedo!! And ageing them up is still pedophilia because they are canonly sixteen so you’re still thinking about teenagers in a roundabout, highly contrived way

Me: *shows you a 300 year old loli vampire* okay so I can definitely fuck this one right? She’s unrealistically old!

Antis: no!!!! You’re just using her canon age as an excuse to be a freak who preys on children! She might be 300 years old but she still has the body of a child!!

Me: okay so I’ll just age myself down to self ship, no biggie.

Antis: absolutely not!! You’re still an adult and ageing yourself down doesn’t make it okay!! I’m reporting you to the authorities right now!

Me: but ... who am I supposed to imagine fucking then?

Antis: one of the few adults you find in anime, except this one because he’s an abuser, or this one because he tortured a little girl and not the serial killer either because wow problematic

Me: so what you’re telling me ... is that I’m only allowed to thirst after your preapproved, precious cinnamon roll faves even though my tastes or needs in a relationship might vary greatly from yours?

Antis: yes, exactly. I’m so glad you’re finally on my level of intelligence and moral superiority. : ^)

Me: oh, I see now. So what this boils down to is that you just don’t want people to enjoy something you don’t personally agree with. Got it.

Antis: absolutely not!! I’m thinking about the betterment of society by telling you what you can and cannot enjoy! You liking these questionable things is harmful against the greater good! Won’t you think of the children!?

Me: soooooo we’re just gonna ignore how much that sounds like a fascist/communist society or ...?

Antis: : ^)

Y’all should absolutely read 1984. It would do you some good. Because having an attraction to a fucking anime character is not a slippery slope, but this puritanical shit? It sure as hell is.

Let me pose this query: what is stopping an anti from going on a book burning campaign or fighting to get certain books banned? Lolita? Flowers in the Attic? All of the works by Marquis de Sade (a personal hero of mine)? Alternatively who are the only people who actually engage in book burning/banning?

Overzealous religious nuts. Everything about the anti movement is the same “our children shouldn’t be exposed to such filth” battle cry that religious sects - specifically the western ones - have screamed for decades now except with a cute little sjw hat on top. No rock n’ roll music. It’s Satan’s music. No porn. It’s tainting America’s youth. No alcohol. It’s leading our country down the path of sin. No violent video games or movies. They’re turning people into mass shooters. No problematic themes in fictional works because it’s turning people into pedophiles/abusers.

And that is just ... factually incorrect. There is absolutely no correlation between Lolita being published and an uptick in children being sexually assaulted. There is no correlation between lolicon or shotacon breeding more pedophiles. Because that’s literally not how it works. Period. I’m not going to accidentally stumble on a loli doujin and think “huh yknow what? This sounds fun!” I could even read loli doujins at length and that’s still not going to convince me that actually engaging in sexual situations with toddlers is okay. Like ... I don’t know why these people think we’re so stupid that we don’t know the difference between right and wrong but this is just insane. The only people who look at loli or shota and then go on to commit crimes against real children are the ones who were already having those kinds of thoughts in the first place. The only people who play Grand Theft Auto and then go shoot up a church are the ones who were already having violent thoughts to begin with. These thoughts are not magically implanted into our brains regardless of what media we consume and that’s just a goddamn fact.

Yes, media impacts reality but not the way you think it does. Even all those sources antis link to about the supposed correlation between the two are twisted to meet their own rhetoric. It’s called marketing and anyone with half a brain cell knows that it exists. It’s meant to encourage us into thinking we need some product so we spend money on junk and keep capitalism going strong. it works more often than not. However no amount of marketing is going to convince a mentally sound person that shooting up a mall is a valid life choice to make. It just doesn’t work like that and you could scream until your blue in the face that fucking kids is the bees knees and I still wouldn’t touch a real child because that’s gross. Period. And since I can’t touch Bakugou Katsuki or Narancia because they’re just figments of someone’s imagination and pen and paper ... then where lies the problem?? What is the issue with writing or drawing fictional characters, regardless of age or moral compass, in sexual situations?

I’m a CSA survivor that has been on the internet for a LONG time. I’ve seen some shit I sorely wish I could forget. Everything from real life gore, real life death, bestiality, necrophilia and yes even real life child porn. I don’t think there’s a single problematic thing I haven’t accidentally stumbled on and it’s horrific. It’s disgusting. I know all too well how awful these things are and I know even better how it feels to be a victim of rape and sexual assault and pedophilia and grooming. Like. That was my life growing up. I know what these things look like and I can assure you without a shadow of a doubt that whatever is going on in fandom space isn’t even comparable. Please. Draw your OC fucking a dragon mascot character instead of fucking a real animal. Please write about a fictional father fucking his fictional son instead of fucking a real child or a real sibling. Do whatever you want with your imagination - and I do mean WHATEVER. If you want to think about eating your favorite characters shit then by all means. Enjoy. It doesn’t effect reality in any way besides maybe giving someone a cathartic coping outlet and there’s nothing wrong with it.

There’s nothing wrong with ANY topic being explored in fiction.

The only problem is when someone commits a crime in reality. When someone hurts another living being. And consuming this so called problematic fiction does not lead someone to real life crimes. Period.

Finding myself on that stupid gore site when I was 14, BestGore I think it’s called? Did not make me want to try killing someone. I’ve never even seriously contemplated doing it because death is awful in every regard, I wouldn’t seriously wish that on anyone let alone convince myself that it’s okay. But according to antis me being exposed to that sort of content means I’m more likely to go out and commit murder?

Literally what crack are you smoking?

Get the fuck out of here and do something worthwhile with your time if you honestly find these topics so disturbing. If not then shut up, sit down and let people enjoy their fandom experience however they see fit. Because this right here? This treating fictional characters like they matter, like they’re real people? It’s not fucking cute. And as someone who was raped from the time I was eleven until I was eighteen by a family member I can safely say that you aren’t doing shit to help anyone with this holier than thou, I know better than you crusade.

And that is the goddamn truth whether you like it or not.

[xxmmxix]

You’re no ruler, nor God

I just waked up. Looked at my phone to see if I’d received any notifications. Last night, I spend time on me and my relations with my friends. Therefore, it was important for me to check my notifications in the moment I woke up. I’d unseen messages on Discord. I fell asleep when I didn’t want to, but in this situation I didn’t care. I got nothing to lose. I felt safe. 

Suddenly you called me. I think three minutes had passed or something like that. Hearing from you made me sad. I become vulnerable. Even though I love to be vulnerable and authentic I feel it doesn’t help. You got your mindset. You’re seeing me as the bad guy, the enemy. For this to work we need to work together and not work against each other. I don’t know how we’re going to come back. In the phone, I told you about the beginning. In the beginning, where you forced the relationship on me and wanted to spend more and more time with me. I shouldn’t have giving you it. I understand that today, because when I explained you the situation you’re happy with your choices. When I need the same from you return, you see it as unfair. You say you’ve giving me too much time. How can you love me, if you feel that way? What’s love for you? 

Is everything going to be okay? I’ve my doubts. You’re pushing me away. I confronted you, and then you pushed me away again. Yesterday, you wasn’t fair to me. You called me a whore, you said: “Fuck you, fuck your family”, you degraded me in any ways. You’ve told me about your behaviour before. You told me you would blame others in the moment of your aggression. I don’t find it to be fair. As strong as I’m, I choose to reach out to you. Not because I wanna find a way back with you, but simply because I care about you. I don’t wanna my best piece of glass to be broken. To hurt or something else. That’s not the kind of person I’m.

Something which hurts me is about when we were in call with Diab. He demeaned me. You didn’t stand up for me. I don’t understand how you could let externals treat me like that. 

I’ve always known there’s cultural differences between people, their sect, society, countries and so on. You’re from Bosnia. The man is the head of the family there. Well, that’s what it’s been for decades. When I met you, you told me you were openminded and so did you seem. By the time we’ve been in contact, learned more and more about each other, I’ve realised you still stand there in some way. You believe the man should have the loudest voice in the relationship. Our struggle is you’re not good enough to let me in. Yeah, I know it’s a process, but you need to let me into your universe and also be there for me. Shit, shouldn’t always be on your terms. We need to help each other. 

Everyone around me tells me I should run away from you. I’ve told them about the situation. I’ve told all. The bad and good. They’re thinking I’m too pure in this world. They think you should be the one, who should beg for my forgiveness. You should say sorry. You should man up. You should be strong for me.

[davidaolson]

Pull out your pocketknife, open the blade, and run it across your burnished arm. If you draw blood, you are human. If you draw wet sand that dries quickly, then you will know you have become part of the desert. Not until then can you claim ownership. ~Terry Tempest Williams

Blood Letting

With the first reading of Terry’s bleeding sand quote in her lovely book, Red: Passion and Patience in the Desert, I have taken to testing myself every trip to red rock country. I need to know if I am an interloper in desert lands ghosting through or can claim desert kinship and the earth will accept my roots. My soul says, I am desert but my head needs physical proof, hard evidence, liquid testimony. Once maybe twice, my flowing blood appeared to contain minute traces of red sand. It was just as likely the blood loosed sand grains stuck in my pores trapped while scrapping my flesh over difficult scrambles up the Slickrock. I didn’t take proper precautions for a valid experiment and isolate the variables. This trip will be different. I’ve come prepared.

The knife purchased for the occasion is still a virgin, still inside the plastic liner, still inside the box, still manufacturer sealed, uncontaminated by dust, dirt, particulate. The blade is 2.4 inches long, 420HC bead blasted, stainless steel. It is assisted opening so I don’t need to fumble come the time to experiment and risk it falling onto Earth. I will use it for one testing then retire it with the others in safe storage.

When I get a house again, they will be all be mounted, blades extended, behind glass, a showcase with a Katana arched overhead. I love knives as did my father before me. I have a collection upward of 30 many made with my own hands. I purchased full tang blades then created the handles out of exotic woods, metals, and antler, getting a much better price on high-quality high carbon steel than if I purchased a complete knife. I had neither the tools nor the skills to forge the blades. If I did, they would all be multi-layer Damascus steel.

Also different this trip, the location. I’m hiking the Sedona Red Rocks, not my beloved Southern Utah Red Rocks. Though both are red rocked they speak to me with distinct voices. Are they kin, the red rocks? The same tribe separated by hundreds of miles or two distinct peoples. I won’t know until I become as intimate with the land in the Sedona backcountry as I am in Moab and can feel its soul seeping into my exposed flesh. I won’t know until I have spent enough time to draw in a breath and recognize the tang of the early morning breeze cascading down the monoliths, across the plains, and through the gnarled juniper extending arthritic arms heavenward. Even when I think I know, I probably won’t know for sure. Identical twins though similar have unique essences not discernable to the casual observer.

Seeking Intimacy

We flew from Chicago to Phoenix, lovely and warm Phoenix then drove the 120 miles mostly uphill gaining a few thousand feet, cruising through a forest of giant saguaro people many over 200 years old. I would have liked to spend time with those old people, bask in their slender shadow spirits, share their secrets of thriving desert life, of coping in challenging conditions. Maybe crawl inside a dead or nearly dead old one and extract a stout rib for a walking stick. But visiting the ancients was our plan for the return trip. For now, I was eager to set eyes upon red rock.

The Unplanned Airport Loop

Originally, we thought about kicking the trip off on Friday evening but that would mean driving up to Sedona at night then sleeping in, possibly late, the next morning. The early flight Saturday morning forced us out of bed early and gifted us an entire morning viewing alien, alien to Midwesterners, Arizona landscapes.

We arrived at our hotel, the Sky Ranch Lodge Resort, a boutique type hotel on lovely grounds, just after the noon hour. Too early to check in. What to do? Why hike of course. Our hotel was conveniently situated adjacent to a 0.6-mile hike terminating a the Sedona Trail View Point, a minor mound to climb for a better view of the valley below, the rock structures perched magnificently beyond. We changed into hiking gear, meaning switching our shoes, grabbed a liter of water, and headed out for a get your hiking feet wet, 1.2-mile round tripper.

The short walk was uneventful and delightful. The trail which had been muddy from the previous week’s snow was mostly dry. There were sporadic benches we sat on for a great view of rocks and city. Much of the trail was littered with baby heads, softball-sized round rocks notorious for dumping mountain bikers out of the saddle. Baby heads are perfect for ankle rolls. A few were loose exacerbating the challenge. We spent a good deal of time looking down at our feet instead of up and out at the vistas which is why I made use of every bench along the way. Thankfully, we were meandering through a shaded, juniper forest so reveled in the divine scent. We arrived at the Scenic Point and scaled the much steeper final ascent to the rock dome.

Our first mistake, one that would haunt us the entire trip, we unthinkingly booked to coincide with Spring Break. People were everywhere and parking would be a hassle the entire trip not to mention traffic jams whenever driving near the main drag of the town. Ugh!

We scurried off the top of the rock dome with the speed and dexterity of eight-legged spiders climbing down a wall to escape a circling bird. Our nemesis was the noise. We needed to escape the cacophony only to be frustrated the main viewing area had grown more crowded and increasingly noisy. So many people. Too many people. We also heard a word here that would percolate up in Sedona on a regular basis. The word, vortex.

A vortex is defined locally as an energy site that enhances meditation, healing, and creativity. It means some very different in the Midwest. For us, a vortex is a spell of freakishly cold, Winter weather with the power to sap one’s will to live.

A local guide with an air of bliss in her countenance was talking to a group about the spot we all were as a vortex and she was sensitive to the underpinning energies. I half expected her to drop into a hand trembling trance to emphasize her point summoning dreaming spirits from their reverie. It seemed every place we visited had a vortex completing diluting the term. It came across more like a gimmick to dazzle tourists.

I have been to many wild places in my life and have tapped into my share of earth energy emanating from those places. I tingled when we drove through the grove of giant saguaros. I’ve experienced similar feelings of awe at some houses of worship irrespective of faith. Those structures were built on top of a place oozing holy earth energy and leverage this in the wooing of believers. Unfortunately, those get tied to the likes of organized religion rather than attributing the sense of the spiritual to Earth herself and we wind up with competing religious sects often times spilling into violence. That is a slap in the face of Earth from which the energy emanates.

I sat still for a few moments, eyes closed, soul open, and felt nothing, absolutely nothing. Not a sense of awe. Not an inkling of the divine. Which is much unlike the strong sense of the sacred I experience in many places across Southeastern Utah. But Utah is my love while Sedona is an ‘any port in a storm’ mistress used to satisfy base needs. Perhaps that distinction explains my feelings…or…my inability to sense the supposed vortex. I may also have been the many people mulling about raping the silence. It is hard to sense divinity when assaulted by violent noise.

Another, what to do moment. And what did we do? Why hike, of course. The 3.2-mile Airport trail loop began and ended at this point. We had easily done a challenging 5 miler through Devil’s Garden at Arches National Park four years earlier on our wedding trip so a mere 3.2 jaunt? Ha. Ha. Ho. Ho. Hee. Hee. Away we go for a little hikee.

Trail Marker

History tells us, fifty or so yards into a trail shows a steep dropoff of people per square meter. Twenty yards into this trail the silence returned. We relished in the solitude and immediately felt bliss, were enchanted by the wide blue sky, the relative warmth, and seeing beings native to the area. We made the right choice.

Prickly pear bordered the trail in abundance with some beds punctuated by butter gold flowers with burnt orange hearts. Many see this particular cactus, possibly the most widely spread of all cacti, and think scrub or weeds or nuisance. I see resilience. I see perseverance. I see stark beauty. Sharp pointy stilettoes protecting themselves from evil intent on inflicting harm. Maybe, if I lived here, I would decay into the same mindset as I do with dandelions back home. Being a Midwesterner, Prickly Pear are a rare being with whom to interact.

I kissed the first red wall we saw. Catholics kiss the pope’s ring. I kiss red rock endemic to the American southwest. We each have our own perceptions of the Holy. My holy of holies happens to exist within a particular russet vertical gradation of Earth. It felt dirty. Not in a clay, dust, loam in my mouth way, in an, I’m cheating on my love way. I enjoyed it but couldn’t shake the lingering guilt of betraying an adored one so the joy was heavily attenuated. How do people have affairs and live with themselves?

Prickly Pear

Kissing Red Rocks

We passed a couple of other hiking groups. One was typically backcountry friendly letting us know we were halfway through the hike which came as a shock because we figured, measured by sweat and fatigue, we were close to completion. The other, an older, bearded gentleman wearing a Hawaiian shirt, sandals, being tugged along by a scraggly little dog attached to a long leash, said nothing to us. Didn’t even nod in acknowledgment which is unheard of in the backcountry. We gave each other a side eye, knowing glance that said, what the fuck is he doing on a trail? Was there a rescue helicopter sighting in our near future?

The sun was high overhead now and our water was getting low. We continued to ration with both magnanimously deferring sips to the other meaning neither drank enough. Luckily, it wasn’t a much hotter day so the water wasn’t siphoned out of our pores leaving us dehydrated. The desert doesn’t suffer fools for long.

Soul Blood on a Prickly Pear

I slipped once on loose scree when not paying close enough attention to my footfalls and lightly brushed against a prickly pear. It was growing chest height atop a short wall. I felt needle pain deep in my chest but didn’t find any holes in my shirt or scratches on my skin nor any pinholes where blood escaped to the surface. The cactus, though, had a subtle shimmer as if a spider spun a gossamer web of opalescent silk over the pad. I snapped a few photos from varying angles including adding a polarizing filter trying to isolate the shimmer. The added filter removed enough glare to enhance the luster. It wasn’t until I uploaded the images to my computer and viewed in photo enhancing software with an infrared approximation that the shimmer was revealed fully. Blood. Soul blood was scraped from and oozed out of my body coating the cactus leaving the iridescent sheen.

The Northern section of the loop trail was populated by taller trees providing dappled shade from the sun, narrower views. It wasn’t hot, in the low 60s, but the effort at an altitude unfamiliar to our lungs added to our perception of the hike’s strenuousness. We were struggling physically and mentally with a desire to rest competing with a drive to finish. Our poor planning meant we hadn’t brought any trail snacks so besides being thirsty, we were getting hungry. At one point, we looked down upon a neighborhood and both voiced thoughts of scrambling to the road and calling an Uber. We didn’t.

Barefeet and a Katana

For most of the hike, I walked behind my wife. It seemed I was constantly on her heels which makes stepping more difficult because forward vision is blocked by another human being. When there is space between, the eyes look further out compensates when the further becomes nearer subconsciously adjusting footfalls so not to break an ankle. It’s a trick I learned mountain biking when speed requires forward vision not looking exactly the path the wheel takes. I had grown weary of looking down for two hours. I switched to be ahead of her and put a bit of distance between us ensuring she could use the compensation part of her brain. I didn’t get too far ahead that she couldn’t see me bopping along.

It was this point in our hike I encountered a lone woman on the trail walking toward me. She seemed to appear out of nowhere, was dressed in a style I can only approximate as bohemian hiker. She had neither pack nor water bottle. She carried long unkempt hair, sorta dreaded, piled high atop her head cascading over her left shoulder. She was absent of shoes either on her feet nor carried a pair for situations requiring tootsie protection. I was both intrigued at her closeness to cool Earth drawing energy through her soles and bewildered that someone would put the well being of their feet at risk on what was mostly a rock-strewn trail.

She was fairly tall but that could have been an illusion by her hair piled high. Her face was pinked. Exertion? Sun? Bliss? Her smile existed somewhere between rapture and complete vacuousness giving the impression she was deeply immersed in a cult and had lost all ability to reason from her own thoughts. She was staring off into the distance and when I said hi, which is universally expected when hikers cross paths, she said “Oh…hi” back as if was an entirely new experience. Or, she may have been a spirit being and was surprised because the spirit and physical worlds rarely cross-pollinate. Having bridged the gap more than once, I understand how it can flummox one’s perception of reality.

A few minutes later, my wife caught up to me.

“Did you him?” she asked. “See who?” “The guy with the big, curved knife. He popped up out of the bushes after the girl passed. He was barefoot and carried a big, curved, knife.” “Curved knife?” “A sword.” “You mean a katana?” I looked down the trail from whence she came. “Yes. He popped up next to me from nowhere then disappeared into the bushes again.” “He carried a katana?” “He scared me so I hurried to catch up to you.” “What color was the handle?” “The handle? There was a long blade. I didn’t notice the handle.”

When I think Katana, I think of the beautiful, white handled, dragonhead katana wielded by the immortal Duncan Mcleod of the clan Mcleod in his quest to survive The Game where there can be only one. I found myself wishing I had actually purchased the katana I saw on Amazon and brought it along on this trip. Ignoring the plight of getting a 40-inch blade on a commercial airline in a post 9/11, paranoid Trumpian world. I envisaged engaging the ruffian in a clanging sword fight protecting the love of my life from impending doom eventually taking the head of the barefoot stranger lurking in the woods saving future visitors from a gruesome gutting and the authorities swooping in to find dozens of corpses hidden in shallow hills on this side of the mesa. Barring that, I scanned the grounds for a thick stick to carry as a counter-terrorism weapon. If only I was carrying that stout saguaro rib I would be invincible.

For the next while of our hike, we made repeated glances over our shoulders. Not that it would make any difference. If he was able to emerge silently from the woodlands once he could easily do it again. We didn’t stop glancing until a set of three hikers we passed earlier, passed us a second time. We chatted them up a second time with a strange twist to the conversation.

The gentlemen of the threesome, jovial both times we met up, asked me, “Why the pink sunglasses?” The question felt accusatory. I sensed an implication a real man would not wear bright, pink anything.

I should have digressed into our visit to Whitesands the previous year where the intense color of the light pained my eyes even when wearing my prescription sunglasses. And how these, purchased in New Mexico, had warmer lenses providing needed relief from the eye strain. But I wanted away from him so just said I liked them. He then told me, with an even bigger smile, he had a pair of bright yellow before the group headed off.

There is a backwoods question asking, how fast do you need to run to outrun a bear? The answer is only faster than the slowest person in the group. This group was now nearer to katana man than we so we were able to relax and quit stealing glances over our shoulders.

Our last encounter on the trail was Hawaiian shirt dude with his rat dog. They passed us again and again without acknowledgment. This is the guy we side eyed wondering if he would survive a loop only to have him lap us in seemingly high energy while we were struggling to finish. We were embarrassed questioning our ability as hikers. Our conclusion, we were wimpy, wimpy, wimpy. Books and covers.

Trail’s End

The hike finished without further excitement. Although, we did hear and then catch a glimpse of a grey bird singing from the tippy top of a tallish juniper. It called out twice then disappeared. It was the only wildlife we encountered on the trail. There were no squirrels, no coyotes, no lizards, no rattlesnakes, not even any insects. Was it too early in the season?

The mile tally for the hike came in at a touch over 5. Not bad for the first day at elevation in red lands. Our plans to seize the next day included another 5 miler, the one and only hike I scouted before the trip. My hope was for it to be an all-day lingerer. Until then we would check into the Sky Ranch Lodge, eat dinner at a local Thai restaurant where we would also carpe vinum (seize the wine).

I found myself enjoying the Sedona red rock more than I expected. I wanted to like this vacation location but loving the land was out of the question. There is room for only one love in my heart. Yet, there is no denying I felt an ache in my heart seeking carnal knowledge. Was betrayal in the air? The heart wants what the heart wants.

Too be continued…

Twin Yellows

Love Desert Flowers

Adultery in Sedona, Part 1 Pull out your pocketknife, open the blade, and run it across your burnished arm. If you draw blood, you are human.