book review caitlin moran how to be a woman
Books, review, thoughts

#CurrentlyReading: How to Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran

book reviews

If you know me, you’ll know that I have something of an addiction to books. I own roughly 350 books spread across 4 bookshelves around my house, and I have absolutely no intention of stopping until I get my own Beauty and the Beast style library. Am I asking for too much? Possibly. Will I give up? Unlikely. Anyway, unhealthy obsession aside – I’m starting a series of blog posts called #CurrentlyReading – essentially book reviews before I’ve finished the book, just because the book in question is just too damn good to wait (or  too terrible to continue).

caitlin moran how to be a woman

To kick off this literary love-affair, I’m excited to share Caitlin Moran’s How to Be a Woman, published in 2011 by Ebury Press.  I first heard about Moran through one of my favourite BookTubers (Leena from JustKissMyFrog), and put her on my to-read list along with another 20 or so books. I completely forgot that I wanted to buy How to Be a Woman until I saw it at Blackwell’s in Newcastle (also known as my second personal nirvana after Waterstones) and quickly snapped it up before my little brain could forget again. I am now hooked. This book is part-memoir, part-humour, and 100%  pure wit. She takes us through her own life, from awkward childhood through to impossible puberty and that mysterious thing called Womanhood in a seemingly effortless thread of questions, like:

  • Why do women get Brazilians?
  • Do we have to get Brazilians?
  • Why is everyone asking me about babies?
  • Why is everyone asking me about my love life?
  • Why is everyone getting married?
  • What about porn?
  • Why do bras hurt?
  • Is there a better name for ‘the vagina’?
  • What are the worst names for ‘the vagina’?
  • What’s this ‘fashion’ thing?
  • Children?!

And so on and so forth, hilariously mingled with Moran’s very relatable personal anecdotes. I rarely laugh-out-loud when reading, but this one has had me snorting cappuccino out of my nose in the most unattractive way possible. One of the blurbs on the cover is from Grazia and describes the book as, “The book EVERY woman should read.” Quite frankly I’d like to take this further and say anyone who is or indeed knows a woman should read it, even if it’s just for the laughs. We do our best learning when we’re laughing anyway. I like to think so, at least.

Let me know if you’ve read this book or anything else by Caitlin Moran in a comment below! What are your thoughts? Is this something you’d read?

-Kelly

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the sound and the fury william faulkner
Books, thoughts

#CurrentlyReading: The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner

the sound and the fury william faulkner

Another blog post and yet another book my fellow bookwormy friends. I was re-watching Mad Men for the umpteenth time and noticed that Don Draper’s lady-friend, Joy, was reading The Sound and the Fury in one of the episodes. I’ve wanted to read something by William Faulkner for a while, and the title of this particular work is – let’s face it – pretty badass. I’m half way through the novel right now, and wanted to share my thoughts with you guys.

The first thing that struck me was the way he brings together the stream of consciousness technique with a certain ‘bare’ quality that I just love. What do I mean? Here’s an excerpt:

When the shadow of the sash appeared on the curtains it was between seven and eight o’ clock and then I was in time again, hearing the watch. It was Grandfather’s and when Father gave it to me he said I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire; it’s rather excruciating-ly apt that you will use it to gain the reducto absurdum of all human experience which can fit your individual needs no better than it fitted his or his father’s. I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.

That. Last. Line.

It’s not the easiest read in the world, so give yourself some time to settle into the book and adjust to the character’s perception in each chapter. The Sound and the Fury is probably best described as a tragedy, so don’t read this if you’re looking for a light, happy story, and get ready for some messed up lives and fragmented family happenings.

Oh, and I find it best to read Faulkner without any distractions (e.g. TV, Netflix, YouTube – forget about it). At the very most, some instrumental music or the background buzz of a bustling cafe’ will do.

Have you read anything by Faulkner? What do you think about his work? 

-Kelly

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international women's day
malta, thoughts

The Sound of (the Prime Minister’s) Silence

On the 5th of March the unofficial memorial set up by mourners following the assassination of investigative journalist, Daphne Caruana Galizia, was swept away overnight. Maybe ‘they’ thought that people would forget; uwiva, let it go ħi. Granted – overwhelming apathy and failure to stand up to the abuse of power is essentially how we got here in the first place, but they were wrong about this one. I write ‘they’ because I assume it took a few cowards to move that many tributes so quickly in the dead of night. Within hours, fresh flowers, candles, photos and banners sprang up once more, with those seeking justice for Daphne and fighting for freedom of speech feeling more determined than ever. I guess that one backfired. The people will not forget and they certainly won’t be silenced.

 

Daphne Caruana Galizia Memorial

Photo credit: The Shift News

 

Hush now

That’s what I want to talk about today – silence. You see, silence can be very loud. When somebody (a dirty politician or sham bank, for example) works hard to keep you quiet, then there’s a 99.9% chance that you know something that’ll see them exposed as the frothing cesspits they truly are. That’s bad for business. They’ll probably try to bully their way out of it by flinging out libel suits like a manic chimpanzee might fling excrement, or threaten to sue you, your grandparents, your auntie and the next three generations of your family if you speak up. Too often, the bullies win and the ones blowing the whistle are left vulnerable. This silence is one of fear.

Then there’s optional silence, far more telling than the silence discussed above. By saying nothing, people speak volumes. Amid all the public outcry and disgust at this underhanded move to erase her memory (and with it hush-up the call to defend freedom of speech and demand justice for her murder), our most illustrious Prime Minister has been very quiet indeed. Wait, sorry – he/his PR team has been quiet about this particular issue, but very busy tweeting about other things. On the 5th, @JosephMuscat_JM was mainly retweeting news about his favourite football team (Milan FC, in case you were curious) and the VOT16 result (16 year-olds can now vote in Malta, and how convenient for the PM that this news item was around to distract the masses on this specific day). He’s also been very talkative about his other smokescreens – I mean accomplishments. His account, like his time as PM, thrives on sycophants praising the hell out of this government, telling the world how proud they are to support his party. They genuinely believe they’re living in l-aqwa zmien (the ‘best of times’, Labour’s slogan). They do it so fervently that you’d think they’ve never heard of car bombings, a slain journalist, the Panama Papers scandal and shady dealings with even shadier people. He has said nothing about the clearing – not on social media, and not on any news articles or in any interviews. Nothing. Whether he gave the go ahead for the clearing or not is completely irrelevant – his silence, his failure to condemn the act, is what makes those responsible feel justified. It’s a failure to do his duty as PM. This silence is one of complicity.

And then there are all the questions. Why so silent? Who has the most to gain from having Daphne’s memory and public outrage fade away? Who has the most to lose when we do get #JusticeForDaphne, and who has the most to lose from real freedom of speech taking root in Malta?

Failure upon failure

Muscat’s deafening silence and the government’s overwhelming lack of action in response to the assassination is made far more apparent by the Solvakian government’s reaction to the recent murder of 27-year-old journalist, Jan Kuciak.  Kuciak was investigating tax fraud that had ties to the government; he and his partner were found shot dead in their home.  Three government officials have resigned (Malta: zero) and the president (who has the same powers as ours) has called for action in the form of an election or reshuffle. So – which Slovakian officials resigned?

  • Culture Minister, Marek Madarič
  • Chief State Advisor, Maria Trošková
  • Chair of the Security Council, Viliam Jasan

The Maltese equivalent of these officials would be something like Minister for Justice, Culture and Local Government, Owen Bonnici; Minister of National Security and Home Affairs, Michael Farrugia; and Minister of Foreign Affairs, Carmelo Abela. Just putting it out there.

Our government’s response has been abysmally bad. The sheer arrogance of our PM and his gang of cronies is actually astounding at this point. It’s an arrogance that became even clearer when Muscat was asked about his thoughts regarding the government’s accountability in the case of Daphne’s murder following their Slovakian counterpart’s response:

Naħseb li l-accountability tagħna hija li nsibu min għamel il-qtil […] u nsibu min bagħat dawk il persuni. (I think that our accountability is that we find the ones who committed the murder […] and find who sent those people.)

This is not accountability. This is an arrogant cop-out. What he’s saying here is that in his eyes, it’s all done an dusted now. He can try to wash his hands of the matter with as many bogus answers and smokescreens as he likes – the blood won’t rinse out so easily. Too many questions and crooks remain. It’s the same arrogance that we’ve somehow let politicians get away with for years. Now we’re reaping the rewards, and with the current opposition leader in place, the outlook seems pretty bleak right now.

Why do so many of us not only tolerate this open sewer of a government, but embrace it? Support it? Glorify it? Why do so many people idolise and hero-worship party leaders, acting like they can do no wrong and ready to ignore every evil and attack anyone who dares to oppose the great leader’s views like some sort of twisted mercenaries?

Your elected officials are there to serve the country. To serve you. They’re not doing us any favours (unless they’ve bribed you with some fancy government job, then yes they are because this isn’t a meritocracy right now). They’re being (over)paid to do a job, and believe me – if you or I were doing as a bad a job as them at our 9-to-5, we’d be fired and out the door by the end of this sentence. But that’s the fate of mortals like us; the gods sitting in their lofty parliamentary seats have (unanimously) approved amendments to the Pension Bill, meaning that MPs are eligible for a massive pension after serving for just five years. That’s a potential pension of €40,000 on top of their social security pension. Us mere mortals have to make NI contributions for around 25-35 years for a fraction of that amount. Considering their recent job performance, that hardly seems fair, does it?

-Kelly

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being yourself
Adult Life, Living Abroad, thoughts

What’s a ‘tiffin’ and when will it stop snowing?

As I write this, I’m sitting at Waterstones watching snow drift past the windows overlooking Newcastle city centre. To my left – a red pot of Earl Grey tea (fitting, since I’m so close to Grey’s Monument) and a teacup, with a cherry and walnut chocolate tiffin beside it. What’s a tiffin? I have no real clue, but it’s biscuity and amazing. A few years ago I wanted nothing more than to be in this exact place, just reading a book or doing some research. And now I live here, and I do that – perhaps too often, judging by the number of Waterstones Cafe loyalty cards I fill up. Today, the sky shifts from icy grey to bright blue with sunlight bouncing off the snow – almost blinding. It’s perfect.

It’s perfect because today is one of those days where I remember that I’m doing something I’d dreamt of doing for years before getting the gumption to actually go out and do it. Sometimes, somewhere between the ever-present deadlines, self-induced crises and little worries here and there that come with living alone, I forget how special that is and how much it means to me. So when I crunched through the snow on my way down here today, I felt happy. I feel light. I won’t ramble on about it – just don’t forget to take a moment from time to time to appreciate what you’ve achieved. Just be for a while.

February is at an end and spring is technically just around the corner – although I am curious about when the season will actually show up. Winter seems intent on overstaying its welcome. Yes, spring is synonymous with rebirth (or in my case, awful hayfever), but rather than that, I find that I’ve been thinking about change recently. Small changes, specifically. Changing bits of my day or shifting my habits because it’ll make me feel better in some small way. I mean I’m doing typical things like eating more fruit (ish), maintaining a balanced diet, going to the gym three times a week and all that jazz. I’ve even cut down my coffee intake to a maximum of two cups a day. But I’ve been thinking about one thing in particular: ‘authenticity’.

If there’s one theme in all my work, it’s about authenticity and self-expression. It’s the idea that some things are, in some real sense, really you – or express what you and others aren’t.  – Bernard Williams (Philosopher)

I don’t exactly mince my words when it comes to saying what I think, and I do try to be myself, but I feel like there’s something nagging at me. I think that moving to a new country, not knowing too many people, it can be easy to say or do things that you don’t necessarily think or want to because in your anxious mind it means winning favour or friendships (even if you’re sbukkata/outspoken like yours truly). It’s totally wrong, of course. Back in Malta, your people know you and have done (for the most part) since primary school. They know how old you were when you disobeyed your parents and got wrecked in Paceville, they know who first broke your heart and how long it took you to get over them, and they know exactly how you like to take your tea or coffee. There’s no complication there, no need to ‘appear’ any certain way. Move abroad, and it becomes tempting to be a little too agreeable because you want certain people to like you. Forget ‘silly’ – it’s stressful and unnecessary and should have been left behind in secondary school. People who are meant to become your friends will become your friends anyway, bullshit or no bullshit. With that in mind, I want to work on being a more authentic version of myself, or more authentically me – whatever way you’d like to word it. It’s a strange thing to try and express, but my guess is that if you understand what I’m trying to say you’ve probably experienced it yourself. I don’t even like using the word ‘try’ up there – if you’re trying to be authentic then I feel like there’s still some kind of artifice involved. I suppose it’s something like being the you that you are when you’re alone in your room folding clothes, or happily walking to Waterstones with snowflakes settling in your hair – and not compromising that for anyone, really. The only person you should be concerned about ‘liking’ you, is you. Isn’t that who you can always depend on in the end? Anyway, that’s just been on my mind recently and I felt like sharing – it’s probably some sort of weird way of holding myself accountable to this commitment to authenticity.

-Kelly

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malta, thoughts

The situation is desperate.

There are crooks everywhere you look now. The situation is desperate.

Daphne Caruana Galizia

I’ve been trying to write and re-write this blog post for a while now. Part of me still can’t quite believe that Daphne Caruana Galizia is dead – murdered. Assassinated, to be precise. Every time I sat down to write this words just failed me. So I guess I’ll try to keep things simple and attempt to articulate what’s been happening in my head.

First, there came the shock and disbelief. I wandered around the city pretending to look for the right place to sit down and do my work, but really I was in a strange daze, only half-listening and half-seeing. Everything seemed a little muffled. There was the shock at the fact that there was yet another car bombing in Malta, then there was the dread that came when reports came in that it was Daphne. She seemed indestructible to me. Fearless. Relentless. Hungry for justice. I didn’t always agree with what she did or how she did things, but that doesn’t matter – who the hell agrees with a person on every single detail? She was a role model for someone like me – an outspoken Maltese girl who fancied herself a bit of a writer, even when her writing was average at best. Who else did I have? How many strong, intelligent, precise, eloquent female writers did we have on our rock? How many of them have the courage to stand against corrupt politician after corrupt politician, with libel suits and threats coming hard and fast? I couldn’t do it. Hell, sometimes I hover over the ‘publish’ button on this blog wondering if what I’m saying is ‘ok’ – what would I do if I was about to expose another dirty politician? I’d be too scared to click. I’ll probably hover over ‘publish’ and tweak and edit this for an hour before I upload this.

Next, the grief. The morning after the news broke things sunk in properly. I was in bed scrolling through Facebook and pausing at the Maltese headlines that were flooding in. I stopped and read Matthew Caruana Galizia’s heartbreaking status about the moment he heard the blast and rushed to his mother. I read about the moment he was in that field, surrounded by pieces of his mother. Policemen standing, unable to do anything – of course, the police force should have done something when she reported the threat on her life two weeks prior. Now it was too late. Then I just cried. For him and for her and for what it all meant or could mean. For what my home country has become – a mafia state. Words seemed to fail.

The anger and frustration came hot on the heels of that sadness. Outrage. Disgust. They all melted together and the words came back to me in a flurry. Here’s what I shared on my personal Facebook, because I still feel the same:

“They” (Who are they? The powers that be, regardless of political allegiance) might not have ordered the hit but they’ve created the exact conditions that facilitate this kind of brutality. Every politician and law enforcer is accountable. We’re accountable. We’ve allowed for it through overwhelming complacency as a nation.

Oh, and if the police didn’t protect Daphne, how can you be confident that they’ll protect YOU? Your family? That they’ll ‘protect and serve’ because you’re a human being and not because you’re on the same ridiculous “football team” of a political party? That they won’t leave you high and dry because you speak out against corruption (again, forget party colours), or be one of the idiots car-cading to the sound of your death bells? When police rejoice in the murder of a journalist (with no consequences, of course) something is very, very wrong. If you feel safe, you’re not listening hard enough. If you’re not angry, you’re not paying enough attention. If you’re not disgusted, you should be. Keeping quiet is how bullies and scumbags win, or feel they’ve won. We need now, more than ever, to speak up and speak out when we see wrong being done by the people in charge. Forget your party. Fuck the party. This is about your rights and your country. A country that is getting more fucked up by the day.

There have been protests. Vigils. Sit-ins. Some people are standing up and doing things to try and get some sort of justice in the rotten EU state of oh-so-sunny Malta. My only hope is that they don’t stop – that we don’t return to the same lackadaisical attitude that brought us to this point.

There have been statements made by ‘politicians’ trying to ride on the back of this tragedy. The same politicians who just weeks earlier were slagging Daphne off and trying to escape from her pen. Some dared to suggest that heqq, you have to be careful what you say hux (that’s a summarised form of it, anyway). As though pointing out corruption and expecting the culprits to be held accountable opens you up as fair game. I’ve even seen a worrying number of keyboard warriors banging on with their ‘shame on you’s directed at the grieving family for not wanting key figures from our corrupt government to attend the funeral. People are ridiculous.

We still have some strong writers in Malta, but it’s not every day that we get a DCG. That brings me to another thing that’s been on my mind recently – the abysmal state of journalism and news in Malta. Where do our journalists come from? What are we doing to foster good investigative journalism? Are serious journalists even safe anymore? It doesn’t feel like it. Our news outlets are questionable at best, filling their pages or websites with the usual partisan bullshit and barely ever scratching the surface of what’s really happening in Malta. I’ve felt uneasy about this façade we’ve been presenting to the world for a while now. Oh, look, we’ve got the EU presidency! Oh, and look at this, Valletta is the city of culture 2018! Oh, and we did this, and that, and the other! EUROVISION! A news article about toilet hygiene while people are still demanding justice for Daphne’s assassination!

DISTRACTIONS.

The costly aversion of the eyes from the bubbling, open sewers just beneath our pothole-ridden, traffic-choked, garbage-littered streets. Crime. Corruption at the highest levels of government, creating the perfect climate for those looking to do wrong. And yet people persist in keeping their blue-or-red blinkers on, worshipping their leaders instead of holding them accountable for their actions. Make no mistake, voter. You’ll be held accountable for the smallest of crimes – they’ll hold you accountable. But the same rules don’t apply to the ones who supposedly make or safeguard them. Spineless hypocrites (just another term for ‘politicians’).

And I’m sure someone reading this might try to make it look like my views are coloured by one of the major parties on our island. That’s part of the problem, of course. Go ahead – I don’t care. I have no party. To hell with them all. They’ve all failed us. Failed Daphne and her family. We need to start from scratch. Call in pest control because the country is being run by rats. Clean slate. I might be asking for too much, I know.

I won’t be silent. I won’t be afraid. But I don’t think I can bring myself to call that place ‘home’ for now. It doesn’t feel like it.

 

-Kelly

 

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lifestyle blog
Adult Life, thoughts, Travel

So…I’m moving to the UK.

Well I have been quiet for a fair while, haven’t I? Things have been a little hectic, partly because holy shit I’m moving abroad for the first time in my life. And that kind of thing takes time, you know? Existential crises take time.

 

Where am I off to and what’s the plan?

Anyway, I’m moving to a northern city called Newcastle-Upon-Tyne and I’ll be living and working there while I study for an MLitt Philosophy at Newcastle University. Hurrah! For a long time, it’s basically been my dream to do exactly that – but that doesn’t mean it was all sunshine and rainbows once I hit the big, red button.

The (Blind) Panic

There have been many times where I was gripped by this white-hot fear that it was all going to be a terrible mistake – that I’d end up alone, nobody there would like me, and it’ll all just be a massive failure resulting in me returning to Malta with my tail between my legs. The flip-side to that was pure elation at the fact that I finally took the steps I needed to get myself where I want to be; it’s easy to get too comfortable here in Malta. Easy to forget how badly you need to leave.

On wanting to leave Malta

Before some of you reading this hop on the ‘MALTA D BEST’ bandwagon and get on my case for wanting and needing to leave, give me a moment. Malta is a great, beautiful island with centuries of history and some of the nicest people you’ll meet this side of the Mediterranean – but no matter how great your home country might be, I think it’s just so important to live abroad for a while, in different countries if possible. Why? Well I just think it shapes us into generally better, more independent and interesting people. Living with your parents until you’re like 30 isn’t the way to encourage personal growth, just saying.

Now that that’s out of the way, I’ll move on to one other reason I need to leave: the way this country is being ruined one development, one crane, one bribery at a time. The fact that ‘we’ the people seem so powerless to stop it is maddening.

I’m tired. Tired of the year-round struggle with allergies and throbbing sinus headaches I get because of the dust. I’m tired of the 8+ cranes I see every morning as I make my way to work. I’m tired of the other (countless) cranes spreading across the island like some sort of plague. I’m angry about how the so-called Planning Authority is doing literally nothing to preserve our history or maintain some sort of aesthetic integrity in our cities, towns, and villages. They don’t care and they don’t listen. I’m angry that the government does nothing to stop this rampant over-development of our tiny island – we’re going to run out of space, and you can’t bribe someone into creating more land. I’m tired of the traffic and pollution. I’m tired of how disgusting this supposedly-1st-world EU country looks when you venture beyond the bits we show to those all-important dignitaries. I’m tired of the complete disregard shown to the environment. I could go on, but I think you get it, right? On to more positive things!

Things I’m Excited About

Oh goodie, my favourite part. I’ve been visiting Newcastle ever since I was a child because I have family up north – so I already know what I’m excited to do once I settle in there:

  • Waterstones, Blackwells, and all the other bookshops that are NOT Agenda
  • Cooler weather (I’m a winter person)
  • Sweaters and scarves and wooly socks
  • Hanging out with my English family
  • Newcastle University!
  • Grainger Market – a huge market in Newcastle where you can buy all the fresh fruit, vegetables, fish, and meat you want (and more) at really good prices
  • Trains
  • Castles, lighthouses, ruined monasteries, etc.
  • Amazon Prime Now, not even going to lie
  • Having my own space that’s 100% mine and not in Malta
  • Lush
  • Snow (a little bit)
  • Pub lunches
  • Living right next to a huge park
  • Getting a bicycle

I’m a woman of simple pleasures. Give me a bicycle, a good bookshop, and the university of my dreams and I’m set. Oh, and here’s a picture of a tiny seaside town, just an hour away by bus, at sunset:

 

Anyway, I think I’ve moved past the whole ‘terrified to leave’ stage and into the ‘I’m so excited’ stage! Of course I’ll miss everyone here, but I’m only moving a 3 hour flight away. It’s not Australia.

Have you moved to another country? Do you have any tips for a newbie like myself? Hit me up!  

-Kelly

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david walliams what the fuck
thoughts

4 Things Wrong with this Anti-Gay Marriage Ad (other than the obvious)

I generally try to have lowkey Sundays. You know, sit in the sun. Have some green tea while listening to Spotify and reading Time or The Economist. But sometimes the universe conspires against you to make sure your Sunday just tests you – case in point, the following ‘ad’ that was printed in MaltaToday:

gay marriage in malta

Let’s just take a minute to let this one sink in. Ready? Okay, time to break this down and take a look at what’s wrong with this ad – other than the fact that someone actually felt inclined to make an ‘ad’ like this. 

1 | It’s Total Bullshit

We’ve known each other for a while now, ladies and gents. You know I’m not one to mince my words (as hard as I may try for the sake of propriety). I’m a big reader, and I have to say that it’s truly a rare thing to find such a strong, pungent concentration of murky toilet-water as this. I don’t think this ad homophobic rant is representative of all the Catholics in Malta – just the ones who like to use the faith as something to hide behind while they’re peddling their existing hateful views.

homophobia in malta

Oh, and a word of advice to the wannabe Donald Draper who typed this thing out: saying ‘we respect everyone’ followed with ‘but’ a couple of sentences later is basically a way of saying, “forget everything I just said, it’s time to get to what I actually think. F*ck all of y’all.”

2 | It was Printed

Someone actually received this nonsense and said, “yep, this is something I think my publication should print. I like what this says about my newspaper. This is totally fine. Giving these people a platform for their hate-mongering is exactly the kind of thing I can do to make the world a better place today.”

gay marriage malta

What is wrong with people? Are we that greedy and so hard-up for cash that printing something like this is a fair trade-off? Isn’t there some sort of ethical issue here? Isn’t it irresponsible of a publication like this one to print something that just makes hateful people feel justified in their venomous views? I have a lot of questions.

3 | Marriage is…

Who the actual f*ck gave you zealots the right to decide what marriage is? Why can’t we just celebrate love instead of concerning ourselves with the gender of the people doing the loving? The world can be a dark, dank place, so excuse me if I think we should just be happy about the fact that people still have the hope and romance to believe in a ‘happily forever after’. Marriage is a promise two people make in front of their nearest and dearest. It’s a celebration of love and an oath symbolising that those people standing up in the nice outfits are going to do their damnedest to love each other like Kanye loves Kanye (and maybe even more). Your personal views on what marriage ‘is’ should never be imposed on anyone else. So mind your own business.

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4 | The Other N-Word

And by that I mean ‘natural’ versus ‘unnatural’. My coffee is in desperate need of a re-fill so I’ll make this one super easy to understand:

Natural (adjective)
existing in or derived from nature; not made or caused by humankind.
Examples: The Niagara Falls; Widnet il-Baħar; a beautiful sunset; my love for gin and tonic; heterosexual as well as homosexual relationships between living things.
Unnatural (adjective)
not existing in nature; artificial; man-made.
Examples: My make-up’d face as it appears on Instagram; the colour of my nails right now; the institution of marriage; the law; the Eurovision; Kinnie. 
Sorted? Sorted.
giphy (1)
Oh, and on the off-chance that the person who penned this full-page piece of garbage happens to come upon my distinctly unnatural blog, here’s another word I’ve taken the liberty of finding for you:
what does salty mean
Used in a sentence: “Stop being a salty bigot and let people love other people, get married, and have a damn party. Preferably with a considerably strong open bar.”
giphy (4)
Happy Sunday.*
-Kelly
*Only applicable to those who don’t go around chastising politicians while trying to take the moral high ground via a full-page homophobic rant. Grazzi. 
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Funny

10 Things Women in Malta are Sick of Hearing

While I’m pretty sure there are more than 10 things that women on this little bit of the Mediterranean are tired of dealing with, we needed to keep things concise for the sake of practicality. And for the sake of my own sanity.

This post was inspired by some ridiculously sexist comments made by a certain Maltese “blogger” who thought it was a good idea to ridicule a woman for having body hair because, well, she’s a member of the opposition. Yes – body shaming is now a tactic being used by a blogger on our “feminist” government’s payroll. Using our taxes. Anyway, on to the post!

1 | “Women should shave their [insert body part here].”

things women are tired of hearing

Why? Why is someone else’s body hair your concern? Why do you think it’s okay to ridicule or judge a person for making a personal choice about their own body? It’s basically like going to someone’s house and insulting their choice of decor because it’s not to your taste. By all means, do whatever you want with your body, but keep your feelings about other people’s body hair to yourself. It’s plain rude.

2 | “Ladies don’t swear.”

Why the fuck not? Does it clash with your established and antiquated notions of femininity? Does it displease you? Does it reduce my chances of finding a man? WILL I LOSE MY DOWRY? Shit, I seem to have wandered out of the kitchen again. Sincerest fucking apologies.

things women are tired of hearing

3 | “Aw koxxa! Aw gisem!Aw sex! Very nice eh swijt! etc.”

Translation: CATCALLS OF ANY KIND

I wish I knew who invented The Catcall. What do they expect? They call us something gross and we’ll turn around, pink-cheeked and feverish with desire, to say: “Yes! This is the man I have been looking for! Get out of that passenger seat and ravish me, good sir!” THIS. NEVER. HAPPENS. Sometimes, they even slow the  car down and drive  alongside you as you try to ignore them. Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.

things women are tired of hearing

4 | “U iva, take it as a compliment.”

I’m sorry, what? If being catcalled on my way  to work was a compliment, I’d take it as one. This, however, is harassment. Being told to take that sort of thing as a compliment is the same dangerous mentality that gets drummed into girls when they’re still in primary school: “Oh honey he’s being mean because he likes you!” This is not what we should be teaching girls because it increases the risk of them accepting unacceptable behaviour later on in life. “He’s being mean because he likes you” isn’t that far away from “he hits me because he loves me”. Cut that bullshit.

things women are sick of hearing

5 | “Jaqaw it’s that time of the month?”

Are we still saying this in 2017?

things women are tired of hearing

6 | “You look prettier when you smile!”

And you look cuter when you stop giving me tips on how to be more visually appealing to the masses. If you want me to smile say something funny so I can ugly-laugh and make that snorty noise while I do it. Also this is how my face is by default so I can’t help it.

things women are tired of hearing

7 | “That’s way too much make up, I prefer a more natural look.”

Why didn’t you say so? If that’s what you like, we recommend a nude lip, some BB cream with SPF in it, a hint of blush and a dash of mascara. Oh, you were talking about how you prefer your women? Never mind.

things women are tired of hearing

8 | “You look like a slut./Qisek qaħba.”

I wrote a whole article entitled What Does a Slut look like? recently. If you don’t have time to read that, just refer to the gif below.

mean girls slut

9 | “Well, what were you wearing? How much did you drink? Did you lead him on? Did you say no? Why were you walking home alone?”

These kinds of questions are often hurled at rape victims or victims of some kind of sexual harassment in rapid succession. Unfortunately, this victim-blaming culture and refusal to understand the notion of sexual consent is still going strong in Malta. If a girl gets raped, why is she being asked about what she was wearing? Are there clothes that allow or justify rape? The answer is ‘fuck no’. Rather than ‘don’t get raped’, the message needs to be ‘DON’T RAPE’.

things women are tired of hearing

10 | [Any sort of attempt to control women’s reproductive rights]

Especially when that attempt involves refusing to sell or stock emergency contraception based on bullshit ‘conscientious grounds’.

things women are tired of hearing


-Kelly

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what is a slut
Adult Life, thoughts

What does a slut look like?

what is a slut

Hey guys! I recently wrote a little something for Eve  – let me know what you think! Here’s an excerpt:

Language is a powerful thing when it comes to shaping society and how we interpret the world. The way we speak about women who own their sexuality and refuse to be ashamed of it reveals a cultural assumption that women can either be virgins or whores, and there’s nothing in-between. It reveals a ridiculous level of societal concern (and nosiness) about the sheer possibility that a woman might be promiscuous; religion and state are so concerned about female sexuality that it creates rules, unreasonable dress codes, and even legislation protecting this sacred, purely feminine purity.

[Continue reading on Eve.com.mt]

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egrant michelle muscat
Adult Life, Funny

5 Ways to React to Daphne’s Egrant Bombshell

Ah, Malta. Sometimes I feel like our relationship is a lot like the Eurovision song On Again Off Again by legendary duo Julie and Ludwig. I love the tan you give me over the summer months, but hate the sticky humidity and general BO that washes over the island; I love your history and rich cultural past, but hate the unbridled construction and simmering racism I still see; I love the Maltese countryside, but hate how little we do to protect it.

But right now, most importantly, I hate the way we do politics in Malta, but I love the laughs (sometimes nervous ones, in desperation) we get out of our situation. The Panama Papers scandal was a huge deal, but our government pretty much failed to do anything about it. Enter journalist Daphne Caruana Galizia, who has been building up to what I call the PanaBomb all week, and finally dropped a big one on us today. How do we react? What do we do? Luckily, we have gifs for every occasion thanks to, well, the internet.

1 | “I knew it!” / “Għidtilkom jien!”

The ones who ‘had a feeling’ this was coming all along, and have been telling you for aaaaages (or since DCG dropped that massif hint the other day). Anyway, they’re pretty pleased they called it. Give ’em a bit of figolla.

panama papers michelle muscat egrant

When you know they’re lying because you’re about to serve up some screenshots.

2 | The Stoics

These guys won’t be phased. They’ve become hardened to the harsh reality of the political world, and can’t be shaken by this latest revelation. Well, either that, or they’re sick of hearing about it and just want to enjoy the rest of Skjetti in peace.

panama papers michelle muscat egrant

3 | Tistgħu tgħiduli x’inhu jiġri hawnekk?

Translation: Can you tell me what’s going on here? 

These are the ones who either aren’t bothered, aren’t interested, or are just plain oblivious to the world around them. Let them carry on enjoying life without the oily shadow of corruption hanging over their lives (che drama!), or give them a brief summary.

panama papers egrant

4 | MADONNA MADONNA, NO!

These people are panicking, and probably pretty devastated by the news. That being said, they also probably had secret accounts and were recently exposed on a certain journalist’s blog. This is a minority group. Nothing to see here.

madonna madonna no

5 | The Ones in Denial

So what if there’s evidence? It’s all lies. All of it. Everything. Nope. Mich and JoJo wouldn’t do this to us, would they? Our PM and his wife wouldn’t screw the country over like that, right? Not the people who voted for them, at least? SAY IT AIN’T SO!

panama papers michelle muscat egrant

BONUS: The Ones Who Were in Transit 

egrant michelle muscat


Well, ladies and gentlemen, what can I say? Grab a cup of tea and what’s left of your Easter goodies and watch the Maltese drama unfold.

-Kelly

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