Sanctuary

Do not make homes out of people, they warn me, so I make a sanctuary out of you. I don't return to you everyday, and you aren't my instinctual safe-house but you are welcoming even when I have sinned – especially when I have sinned.

There is grace and purity in you, and being around it relieves me. I thank the people who said not to make homes out of people, because I never want to feel confined within your walls or alone when I'm with you. I never want to be separated from you and suffer from being home-sick. I never want to have to leave you behind and then rebuild you brick by brick. 

I want you to be the steady point of my life, the stabilizer, the safety net. I want you to be wherever I go because I always need an escape and you are my refuge, my hideaway.

The feeling of divine love is multiplied in your presence, and I take off my shoes to walk on the sacred ground around your heart. You let me in to the shrine of your mind, and every now and then, I bring you statuettes of votive offerings. I don't want to walk away having left only my problems with you. 

You aren't a temple no, nor an object of worship – we both have our own Gods.  But when the religious heads can't contain me, and I'm looking for shelter, I come to you.

I come to you because sometimes I'm homeless and I need a place to stay. I need a listener for my stories and a holy person for my confessions.  I come to you because I feel safe – because if nothing else, I know one thing about the world, and that is, no matter how cruel people can be, they won't dare harm a sanctuary. 

***

Lots of  candy wrappers

~Belle

Adventures With My Grandmother

My grandmother and I once went to five different engagement ceremonies in one day. None of them we were invited to.

The ceremony house was located near a small amusement park, we would go in, smile at these strangers, accept the prizes we came for, stay for the vows, and leave to come back again in an hour. 

The prizes were my grandmother's favorite souvenirs to collect: the intricate engagement candy assortments wrapped in expensive packaging with pink bows, candles and felt roses, one for me and one for her. It's a tradition where we come from. The candies. Almonds covered with a milky sort of hard chocolate. They last forever. And the assortments? People get creative with them, and those are my grandmother's favorite kind. Give her the little figurines and the porcelain boxes.

"Are you from the bride's side or the groom's?" They asked. We changed our answer each time, or said that we knew both the bride and the groom, that we actually played matchmaker. We sometimes even posed for pictures, imagining what people would think later. 

We would weave stories of the newlywed couples looking through their albums together coming across the elaborately dressed grandmother and her granddaughter. "Do you know them?" the bride would ask the groom, and he would shake his head. They would shrug and flip to the next page, see if they had other strangers in their album. "Maybe they are extended family?" "Yeah, could be," "I'll ask my mom" "OK."

We would walk to the amusement park and buy cotton candy from the vendors. And then we would relax in the shade under big trees and a small Ferris wheel. We would keep telling stories. Make them up. About the girl and her mother waiting in line for the basil, tomato and mozzarella sandwiches. About the old man sitting by himself drinking tea and eating popcorn. About the stone faced riders on the roller coaster.

We would return to the ceremony house after enough time had passed. To extend warm glances and exchange pleasantries, maybe pose in a few more photographs. We would watch two people commit to each other, while a new set of candies rested in my grandmother's purse. Waiting to be put in her glass display cabinet.

***

Sorry for the infrequent updates everyone, I am writing college application essays and trying to juggle senior year at the same time. I tagged this as creative writing, but this is something my grandmother and I did once and I recently remembered it. It was an amazing day. 

We are nearing the end of 2014 and it only feels like yesterday we started it. I hope you all accomplished most of your new year goals by now (:

Lots of pumpkins,

Belle

Valentine's Day Nightmares

Content warning: 50 Shades of Grey, swearing, and sexual language in some links

Recently, Universal Pictures announced that they would be releasing their movie adaptation of the disaster that is Fifty Shades of Grey. On Valentine's Day in 2015. Yep.

Of course, this post isn't about Fifty Shades of Grey (or more accurately). It isn't about why I call it a disaster (you can read about that here). Or why it makes me question humanity. Question the writer, scriptwriters, actors, producers, sponsors and readers of the book and watchers of the movie for entertainment and education purposes (because we definitely can take it as a reliable resource).

I'd rather not go into my problems with Fifty Shades of Grey. You can read reviews for all three books from my favorite review writer on Goodreads here (first book, second book, third book). But I'll give you my favorite part of her review that explains why I hate this book with a passion and think it should be obliterated so it no longer is a part of human history.

"It's this kind of ignorant trash that sets feminism back decades. Women who defend this book are, however unwittingly, participating in some of the most blatant misogyny I've ever witnessed, giving the impression that some women enjoy being debased, abused, and controlled (outside of a consensual Dom/sub relationship). This is not a book about BDSM, this is a book about one sick, abusive man and his obsession with a young, naive invertebrate. It's a book about a girl who has absolutely no sense of self, who sacrifices any pretense of individuality in order to hold onto a man who doesn't even show her the faintest glimmer of respect. It's about two attention-starved individuals with the emotional maturity of toilet paper convincing themselves that their relationship is 'like, the best thing ever, OMG'. It's trite, insulting, and dangerous. I fear for any impressionable young women who read this and think that this is how an ideal relationship should operate. If nothing else, it should be issued as a guidebook to mothers around the world to show their daughters the kind of man to avoid at all costs. This book does good men (and indeed, all of humanity) a disservice." 

In any case, this brings me to my actual reason for writing this post. Reviews.

Both before and after reading a book, I like reading reviews and general critique for said book. What do people think, how did they like it, is the writing any good, is the plot intriguing etc. And I found that there are two major ways for people to review books. One is to focus solely on writing and the literary aspect of the book, critiquing the language and the lexicon. The other is to focus on the characters and their relatability and how likable they are. 

For me, it has always been a mixture of both with some other elements depending on the book. How realistic is it if it's set in the modern world with modern technology and laws? How historically accurate and appropriate is it? Does the terminology match the era? Where are the resources and where is the research? Are there plot holes and lost potential for characters? Can I justify problems? How are women treated? What tropes are used? What are people learning? 

In the case with Fifty Shades of Grey, as you can see, people are not learning anything. In fact, if there was at least a seed planted in the readers' minds from before to respect women as people and care for them as humans, it will rot and die. It will then become fertilizer for a different seed that will bloom and make the readers think that it is completely okay to be in abusive relationships and women are the weak, submissive, unintelligent beings men always say they are.

Books are important because they introduce people to new things and help them think beyond what they know. Books help us speak up or reconsider our actions with their heroines and antagonists. They are important because they influence us. And that influence cannot be measured only in the sophistication of language or the allure of certain characters. We need to look at books holistically because it's upsetting to know that some people will never like/read Austen's Emma or Huxley's Brave New World because they can't stand Emma or care to follow Huxley's prose. 

Lots of bookmarks,

~Belle