Yes, indeed I am. As much as I don’t like to relate to real life issues,the turn of events struck a chord in me that makes me feel compelled to say something. I am, afterall, a girl. Took me a sometime to string up the things that I wanted to say properly, and hopefully, not offensively.

Its happening so often lately, that it is disturbing.So many cases in a week. Reported cases that is. I wonder how many went unnoticed because they were unreported. And of the reported ones, I wonder how many cases where the beast could be caught, and if they are, I know the punishment would be insufficient. Their sins could never be properly atoned.

Seriously, its sickening. Incest, paedophiliac, gangbangs and whatnots. Whatever they are, they have the same intention. They achieve similar goals. They are monsters who seek to destroy, to humiliate, to manipulate. To satiate their sexual needs by force. To satisfy whatever sickening fantasy that they behold in their filthy, pungent mind that allows such way of act towards someone of the weaker gender. And worse, to kill their victims after that. Decapitate their bodies. Segregate their body parts. Scatter them all over the place.

If there is ever one thing that I feel strongly, it is this:

Do not ever blame the victims. They did not ask to be violated. They need help, sympathy and respect. They do not need pointing fingers and hushed whispers. And they certainly can do without accusations with assumptions that they acted or dressed in ways that provoked the rapists. Utter bullshits. Only the chauvinist pigs would churn out such brainless piece of crap in a feeble attempt to run away from responsibilities. Which in turn, gives excuses to rapists out there, who could simply said the victims provoked them and therefore they couldn’t control themselves.

So, for those who had said or even think about that, please have the decency to feel ashamed. If this happens to your loved ones such as your wife, girlfriend or daughters, I don’t think that you could laugh, shrug and think they asked to be raped because of what they did, do you?

The emotional trauma, the morbid distrust, the self destructive emotional roller coaster.

Its as if live has been ruined.

Which, ironically, indeed it is.

To womenfolk out there,

just be careful. Do take care of yourself.

I’ve actually finished watching The Notebook, a movie based on a best selling novel of Nicholas Sparks. I normally try my best to avoid this particular genre, but since Nicholas Sparks is the only romance author that I’ve heard of, plus the show was recommended to me by one of my gal pal, I guess it could’ve worth a shot. Surprisingly, it was. It was good. One of the few (two, including this one) romantic movies that I manage to sit through without losing interest to know what’s gonna happen in the end.

(spoilers everywhere, not that I care)

Of course, the movie employs no spectacular, out of ordinary love story plot: its the usual boy meets girl; boy and girl fall in love; she’s a millionaire’s only daughter; he is a dirt poor carpenter; girl’s parents disagree; forced them apart; they were heartbroken, bla, bla, bla; waited for some years; and then girl gets new rich fiance…

At this point of the movie, the materialistic me would have wanted the story to end here - girl get married to rich fiance, lives in a big house, dines the best, wears the finest, goes to fancy balls, have two cute and adorable kids and a posh golden retriever Siamese cat because, because it seems so right. So … comfortable. Sheesh.

But no, not so simple. Not so outright forward actually.

The story started with an old man reading from a notebook to a woman who seems to be losing her memories due to old age, something that seems odd because I had always thought that love movies had always features young and good looking casts. Little by little, as the old man reads, the story began to unfold, the beautiful pages that contains young love, summer fling, arguments, separation, war, death and reunion pour forth with strong emotion, but yet nothing too stifling nor too blown out of proportion.

The sweetest thing in the movie had to be the undying love the guy showers to his sweetheart, staying with her, by her side, taking care of her, loving her, even when his sweetheart no longer recognises him. Yeah, it hurts, I guess. To be regarded as nothing more than a stranger to someone whom you love, and loved you in return before.

In a brief moment of conciousness, the woman actually remembers that the man reading the story is her sweetheart, and he is reading her their story. Their love story. A shortlived joy of reunion came, only to be replaced by the woman’s struggling in hysteric fits for she had forgotten that it was her sweetheart holding her again; doctors and nurses rushing, and subsequently paining her sweetheart so much.

The finale of the movie is, in my humble opinion, the bittersweet “til death do us part” where the couple, now old and failing in health, spent their last few moments together, holding hands until they breathe last breath.

Wow. *Sobs*
Forgive my soppiness.

Photos thanks to movies.about.com

Three years.

Since my grandmother has left.

The grief had long passed,

to be replaced by fond memories…

etched into the heart of those…

of whom she had made a difference.

May God bless her soul.