Girls
Quotes - It’s a disaster to be a girl
“The
law might not recognize it, but fifteen‘s a girl and sixteen a woman, and you
get no map from one land to the next. They air-drop you in, booting a bag of
Kissing Potion lip gloss and off-the-shoulder blouses after you. As you‘re
plummering, trying to release your parachute and grab for that bag at the same
time, they holler out "your are pretty", like they‘re giving you some
sort of gift, some vital key, but really, it‘s meant to distract you from
yanking your cord. Girls who land broken are easy prey. If you‘re lucky enough
to come down on your feet, your instincts scream to bolt straight for the
trees. You drop your parachute, pluck that bag from the ground (surely it
contains something you need), and run like hell, breath tight and blood
pounding because boys-who-are-men are being air-droped here, too. Lord only
knows what got loaded into their bags, but it does not matter because they do
terrible things in packs, boys-who-are-men, things they‘d never have the hate
to do alone...we were racing to survive the open-field sprint from girl to
woman.”
―
Jess Lourey, The Quarry Girls
“We
are just the same - I am only a Little girl like you. It's just an accident
that I am not you, and you are not me!”
―
Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess
“This
girl. Yellow and amorous. She’s a story. A novel I’ve already read, but in a
foreign language.”
―
Lancali ., I Fell in Love With Hope
“All
girls are mad. Each in her own way.”
―
Marina Dyachenko, Vita Nostra
“Girls
more often than boys confide in a dairy.”
―
John L. Schimel, Your Child in Adolescence
“The
more I reached my goals, the more money I made from drug dealing, the more
girls I hooked up with, the more adventures I had, and the more accomplishments
I reached, the more messed up I felt. For years, I strived to reach my fullest
potential, until one day I had to ask myself: What if the whole purpose of life
isn’t getting everything we want and living to make ourselves feel good all the
time?”
―
Michael J Heil, Pursued: God’s relentless pursuit and a drug addict’s journey
to finding purpose
“People
think any clever girl could be a witch. It happens to all of us.”
―
Gabby Hutchinson Crouch, Darkwood
“While
my previous friends had always talked constantly about girls, parties,
drinking, and fights, this group invested considerable quantities of time
looking out for the wellbeing of others. They made the world a better place,
and they taught me to do the same. Since we were looking out for what God was
doing, we would often find ourselves in the right place at the right time.”
―
Michael J Heil, Pursued: God’s relentless pursuit and a drug addict’s journey
to finding purpose
“My
Hamlet,” I say. It doesn’t matter. Right now, she’s all that matters. “I may
just be a cowardly skull, but I’m here,”
―
Lancali ., I Fell in Love With Hope
“Emotion
and chocolate are a lot alike: Too much and you can get downright sick, too
little and the world might as well end (that is, if you like chocolate as much
as I do). We women are emotional creatures! Little girls may be made of
"sugar and spice and everything nice"; but let enough time go by, and
that recipe is sure to ferment into some sort of emotion.”
―
Chonda Pierce, Laughing in the Dark: A Comedian's Journey through Depression
“Barbara
was all too familiar with the reality that boys are very different from girls.
For example, their sense of humor is different. A group of boys can watch old
"Three Stooges" episodes and howl with laughter while girls just
shake their heads in confusion, wondering what's so funny. Boys' eating habits
(and preferences) are also very different than girls. It's not that one is
right and the other wrong. It's just that a boy finds nothing strange about a
ketchup-and-peanut butter sandwich, or a cold piece of pizza for breakfast, or
putting French fries inside his hamburger. In a boy's room, it's not altogether
unlikely to discover a petrified chicken bone or a year-old empty Coke can
stuffed into the back of a sock drawer.”
―
Jeff Kinley
“For
girls, shame lay in wait at every turn. The verdict of too loomed large over
their clothing and makeup: too short, long, low-cut, tight, flashy, etc. The
height of their heels, whom they saw, what time they went out and came in, the
crotch of their underwear, month after month, were subject to all-pervasive
surveillance by society. For those obliged to leave the family fold, society
provided the Young Ladies' Residence, separate from the boys' dorm, to protect
them from men and vice. Nothing, not intelligence, education, or beauty
mattered as much as a girl's sexual reputa-tion, that is, her value on the
marriage market, which mothers scrupulously monitored as their mothers had done
before them. "If you have sex before marriage, no one will want you,"
they said, the subtext of which was no one except a market reject of the male
variety, an invalid, a madman, or worse, a divorcé. The unwed mother lost her
entire worth and had nothing to hope for, except perhaps a man who would
sacrifice himself and take her in, along with the fruit of her sin.”
―
Annie Ernaux;
“The
world over, children are being nurtured and raised with dreams and aspirations
to secure gold medals and accolades in every field, be it sports, studies,
arts, creativity, innovations, ideas, and thinking, most parents in India began
saving for their daughter’s marriage since the birth of the girl child.
Marriage, is perhaps, seen as the ultimate destiny for a woman and is
prioritized over her career, her abilities, her aspirations, and her dreams.
Collecting and preserving gold, or expensive items for the dowry is preferred
over investing the money in education, a career, or making her self-dependent.”
―
Shalu Nigam
“What
is negated is the rhetoric regarding obsession for gold as the dowry is that
the parents have a choice to express their care and love for their daughter in
a different form where they invest the resources in her education and training
to help her acquire skills, nurture her talents, develop her aptitude, build
her capacities, and make her independent from the very beginning of her life,
so that in case of any emergency, she may face challenges to survive and
flourish in any circumstances. Preparing her to get gold medals and accolades
in any skill, may be prioritized rather than giving gold at the time of
marriage.”
―
Shalu Nigam
“The
Salem Witch Trials were about little else than bored girls letting their
stories spin murderously out of control.”
―
Thomm Quackenbush, The Curious Case of the Talking Mongoose
“Pent-up,
resentful young girls are not known for conjuring an imp to hold
sometimes-polite conversations with the guardians stifling them.”
―
Thomm Quackenbush, The Curious Case of the Talking Mongoose
“Oh
my darlings,
they
tell you you’re born with a precious pearl.
Truth
is,
it’s
a disaster to be a girl.”
―
Anne Carson, Norma Jeane Baker of Troy
“And
he said...
...crossing
your' 't' isn't as important as crossing your legs.”
―
Anthony T. Hincks
“At
one particular moment, with my eyes closed, I was crying and asking the
question over and over aloud, „Does true love exist? Does true love exist in
girls? Does true love exist? Does Sabrina love me? Does true love exist? Does
true love exist?” - I had suddenly seen a flash.
As
if I was poking the Devil in the dark, staring too long into the darkness until
it looked back at me as they say. I have never told anyone about this before.
I
try to describe what I had seen that night in that windowless, dark, and cold
place deep inside under that big, old building, with my eyes closed.
It
made a half turn, flashing one of its eyes at me for a moment before
disappearing again into the dark. As if it was nodding to me, I still get
goosebumps years later when I try to describe it.
As
if it had been standing there all along, and just tried to reassure me that it
had heard my question and would answer. Quite close. Just to make me be quiet
finally.
His
eyes were yellow and red. I'm not actually sure if it had two eyes; I only saw
one of them.
One
Evil Eye.
Perhaps
he had lost an eye, that's why I had seen the light of only one of them.
His
eye was malicious, but not particularly. It was more tired and angry yet
understanding, as if he had heard this question over a billion times before
from fools like me and I did not amuse him with my question and demand. As if
he was about to show me a trick he had known for a long time.
As
if Satan had seen it all already. He knows all the tricks, he invented them, he
inspired them all. As if he was bored of humanity already.
(There
is only One Evil Eye. The planet Saturn.)
I
was cuddling with Adam's cat, crying a lot, asking the darkness, about Love,
and reflecting on Sabrina.
Perhaps
it was merely an optical illusion. I leave it up to the reader to decide what
they believe about what I was facing and how I miraculously survived, as an
atheist goy, as well as who truly supported me throughout the ordeal. If anyone
or anything supported me in Spain at all.
I
had seen an advertisement somewhere saying that Miss Kittin would be playing on
Saturday night, November 16th, 2013 in Barcelona at The Marhes.
Satan.
Saturn. Saturday.
Coincidence?
Maybe.
So far. Perhaps.
I
knew I had to see her again after such a long time; she had been playing drum
and bass in the early 2000s across the globe, and also in Budapest. I checked
the map; The Marhes was next to Camp Nou, the FC Barcelona stadium. I thought
of buying a bottle of champagne, which I didn't like, unless it’s Italian, but
I wanted to celebrate, and I would walk along Avenida Roma to get there
straight. I knew I'd get drunk; I didn't want to drive, I wanted to arrive
intoxicated. I re-posted the Miss Kittin party’s flyer, on Instagram, writing
underneath it :
‘All
roads lead to Rome.”
―
Tomas Adam Nyapi, BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA
“One
of those days we were in Maria Vostra getting weed; while we were sitting at
the bar during some festive day—I think it was Three Kings' arrival in
January—Marco, the 30 some years old Argentine founding member of that club and
probably the kindest of the three, received a phone call from Buenos Aires. I
didn't understand it much, nor did I pay too much attention, but the tall
Marco, who was usually in a great mood, suddenly ran out of the bar crying
after one or two minutes. Martina told me she heard him speaking in Rioplatense
on the phone. Marco's best friend had been shot dead in broad daylight in
Buenos Aires at the same time; in front of her seven-year-old daughter. He had
been shot five times in the chest because a thief had tried to steal his scooter
and he had tried to stop them; they then shot him dead and took off with his
scooter.
We
were shocked, at least Marco and I while I tried to hide it - but Martina, who
was only 20, wasn't. “That's how poor people are in Argentina, Tomas,” she
said, pointing to her lips with her pinky as if it was a known secret. She
wasn't fazed by death. I failed to realize what that meant. She must have seen
people die before we met.
Perhaps
I was blindfolded because I had been with Sabrina, whom I knew had something to
do with Timothy's death and had gotten away with it, leaving Canada - I was
unsure as to when she left exactly, and why - and why she was really unable to
visit little Joel in Canada. I was also aware that Adam had not been to Israel
for over 10 years, probably because he had murdered someone or done something
similar when he was younger.
Perhaps
I had become too accustomed to the presence of bad people; perhaps they had all
become too familiar to me after all, two years after I had first met Sabrina,
one year after I had first met Adam, and living in Barcelona for one and a half
years at that time.
“A
scooter worth 200-300 Euros is such a great value there, imagine Tomas. It's so
dangerous and poor country” she said.
A
few times in Urgell, Martina made a joyful noise of 'Oyyy', but she stopped
because I laughed and she never said it again, no matter how much I asked her
to. Perhaps the presence of the Polish workers at the other end of the place
had something to do with it.
Gucho
and Damian spent time with us in the kitchen-living room area every night. We
ate, we smoked, and we had a great time together. They were skilled at smoking
out of a bowl to get the most from the least weed.
I
registered Martina at Club Marley, so if she was in the center and needed weed,
she wouldn't have to go all the way up to Maria Vostra, a block from Urgell.
Club
Marley was mostly run by Argentine people, so I thought she would like them
too. One of those nights I was sitting in Club Marley at a table with Martina.
When she went to the bathroom, an elder dispensary budtender I knew, who I met
daily, told me that he didn't want to be rude, but: “Be very, very careful with
this girl, Tomas. With Latinas, there is love sweeter than honey and all you
ever dreamed of, but it only lasts as long as you are successful as you are
right now, as long as you’re the manager.”
I
said “thank you” and I meant it, but I had no time to reflect on it because he
had to go. Martina was suddenly in my mind and by my side again: in love. I
thought, “Yes, the guy may be right, but I trust Martina and have no reason not
to.”
I
knew I was broke and I knew that Martina knew that too. Even though I was a
manager and seemed successful to my customers, it did not make me rich yet nor
was it the reason to make Martina want to be with me.
I
believe he must have caught sight of her looking at me or at another man when I
wasn't paying attention. To me, she was one of a kind. I trusted her deeply and
even told her about the guy's warning regarding Latinas. She showed no
reaction. I didn't notice or pay attention to the fact that Martina never set
foot in Club Marley again.”
―
Tomas Adam Nyapi, BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA
