Making nostaliga real

Sunday was a big day in the house of Joy B. Her teenage son chose to have a civil confirmation. You see, at the island of extremes all kids his age get confirmed to Christianity, well almost all, believers or not. However on April 17th (my birthday) 93 brave souls went against the stream and got confirmed in a civilized way. The kids got fantastic preparation and education before the confirmation ceremony took place, such as; ethics, human relations, human rights, equal rights, relations between the sexes, prevention of alcohol and drug abuse, skepticism, protecting the environment, getting along with parents, being a teenager in a consumer/advertising-dominated society, and what it means to be an adult and take responsibility for your views and behavior.

You might not know it but Joy B is a rather nostalgic person, she craves for a big family and likes family traditions. She likes to carry on with the things she loved when she was a kid. Like how the family used to come together every year at my grandparents house and after eating much and talking much we sang, my grandfather played the guitar, my mom too and my granny played the harmonica, the rest of us sang. It was just something about it that would make me get all warm inside. Therefore, my aim was to get that warm feeling inside and try to give that to the rest of the family somehow. Most people in Iceland are just too busy to meet the rest of their family; aunts and uncles relations are almost over. It is quite crazy, and I refuse to take part in it. Anyway the most important thing was to see it is possible, so when I have a bit bigger living space, maybe a house someday, who knows, than I will start to have big family parties… I shall make new traditions. Anyway Neptunus the king of the ocean was of course beautiful during the ceremony and at his confirmation party. Poor thing my mom had made a poem about him and his many qualities and we all sang except him that wanted to sink into the earth or something. Of course I managed to have a little accident, the zipper on my antic dress broke in front of everyone as I was opening the window. The most important thing about this all was how everyone helped out in making this possible, even my neighbor let me keep my bed in her flat because my flat is small and I had to rearrange everything to fit all these people in here….

My birthday was a bit in hiding, because it was my sons day, he was to shine… I don’t understand people that don’t cherish their birthdays. I think it is cool to have a day that is mine mine mine…. Moreover, I get to have a cake, always, no matter what. For an artist, writer or a poet age is good, because it creates a depth, the knowing we want to share..

The crime of silence when we should speak out

I saw a brilliant documentary a few nights ago about the vagina monologues. A true inspiration in action. I had in my own little everyday word forgotten how many women suffer because SOME men believe they have ownership over them. Suffer because of the shame of the unspeakable violence brought upon them. It is so easy to forget things in our world if they don’t inflict on our personal life directly. It is so easy to fall into the pit of roughhouses and close the heart and mind to other perspectives. I had become fed up with the feminist movement; our world is a bit out of balance still because the changes different thinking has brought about. I personally don’t think the best or the only solution is to abandon motherhood for carrier oriented thinking. I don’t think that is what all women want, it would also be nice to see a world where there was a choice and respect for those that want to stay at home. That is also work, but not highly appreciated because the lowest wages are for women that work as caregivers for our kids in day cares and elementary schools. So is that a reflection of how we look at homemakers, that looking after your kids is the least interesting work there is, the least valued work. I think so. Women have gotten so caught up in the male oriented thinking that they have forgotten the matriarch, how can we justify dumping our children and parents into institutes instead of making them a real home. I don’t understand it. I mean I want to be successful but isn’t one of the greatest successes to raise healthy children who will have the moral fiber to evolve beyond us?
I don’t understand why I should feel more of a person if I am working as a manger for other people than for example my family. I mean can’t I do both? No not really it is all or nothing at least in Iceland. But are we happy, we claim we are the happiest nation in the world, at the same time no other nation uses as many happy pills, and no other nation gives their kids as much Ritalin as we do. No other nation has as many women that fake satisfaction during sex, I wonder if that is also the case in the real life. What I like about the vagina monologues is that it addresses the silence. It gets people to talk about things that are shameful and often very painful. We need this sort of monologues in so many fields of our lives. We are living in a world out of tune with itself. Our is the path of self-destruction. We have to do something NOW or there will be very little left for the next generations, not only have we destroyed more than we can ever repaired when it comes to our planet but we have are responsible for much more damage. The crime of doing nothing when we know we should. The crime of silence when we should speak out. The crime of indifference to everything except material security, yet nothing is as frail as material security.

Diane999 - the Cobalto Saga

Diane999 the graphic novel I am developing with the Hand aka Maurizio di Bona is now being introduced online. Beautiful web and amazing drawings. Content flowing in, make sure to have a look when you can. I am only a humble writer in this project, but it is inspirational to draw words from the space the Hand has created.

In other news, the Tsunami video Jim Wrathall put so skillfully together with my tribute poem has been downloaded more then 11.000 times in less than a week.