BEAUTY IS THE BEAST

On social media, speaking above all of influencers and models who often publish their photos showing themselves beautiful, thin / me with a face practically without imperfections, it has now gone to establish an exaggerated and in my opinion also dangerous exposure h24 to fees too tall and often not authentic. It must be said that for the publication of these photos "filters" are often used to remove the imperfections of the body and thus make the person in the photo more beautiful. A smooth face for example is often caused by these "effects" that are applied to photos.
Why do I say that these canons of beauty can have dangerous implications? Because in a world where beauty is understood above all with thinness, smooth faces, etc., many boys and girls (teenagers in particular) take all this as a "standard" by not appreciating their body and ending up in the midst of psychological discomfort too. deeper. In fact, we know that the adolescent period is not always rosy and in itself the discomfort for one's body often comes out. So be careful not to increase it.

"Look at this model what a nice slim / dry body she has, mine is more plump and sucks", "look at this influencer what a perfect face she has while mine is affected by acne and it sucks" are simple examples of that that guys can think even just looking in the mirror.

The message that must pass on the web (and fortunately there are some famous people who do this) is that everyone has their own body that must be cared for and loved. The message that to be beautiful you must necessarily have a "standard" body must not at all pass.

Let's take advantage of these blessed social networks because they can also transmit positive teachings, even more so in this area as now everyone (or at most almost everyone) has already used them from a very young age.

SLEEPING DUTY

Sleeping is one of those things that has always fascinated me. Why we sleep, I mean. We all have basic needs as living beings: we must drink, eat, carry out our organic functions and then we must sleep. Otherwise we don’t work, otherwise we go haywire, in short, we die not to sleep (we have to mention, what do I know, like Nightmare?), It is one of those basic needs. On average, we should sleep about 8 hours a day, which is equivalent to 1/3 of the day, which then means, in a nutshell, about 1/3 of our life. It is a lot of time to think about it, many say it is “wasted” time … maybe instead we have to stay awake and work for 2/3 of our life to get 1/3 of that absolute freedom. When we sleep we enter a world that is made different. We lose contact with reality, dream and re-process the information collected inside and outside of us in a completely personal way. And this step is necessary and fundamental in order not to freak out. Yet we take it for granted. We are what we are when we are awake, that is our identity, what we believe we are is represented by our conscious image and when we are awake and alert we worry about buying a comfortable mattress, arranging the bedroom furniture according to the Feng Shui, to change the sheets, to sleep well, in short. Because sleeping well is more important than eating well, for example. But we take it for granted. I emphasize this, because it is something that few people talk about. At work in the morning typically “what did you do last night?” “Well, I was tired, I had dinner, I saw a movie and then I went to sleep” and then that’s it, life ended there when you closed your eyes and starts again in the morning when the alarm goes off. We recharge our batteries every night, but we don’t talk much about it.
Everything that the human being designs has this mechanism inside: we are always convinced that whatever we do must somehow recharge or rest. We consider it a primary need even for inanimate things. We cannot design or conceive of something that is in perpetual motion. Something that is always on, something that can work perfectly forever. Everything we design has our own basic needs inherent. Only when we have a very bad dream or are unable to sleep does the topic become public “you know, last night I had a terrible dream!” “Ah, don’t tell me, in the last period I haven’t slept so much I was stressed from work, I woke up every 5 minutes!”, Only then do dreams and dream imaginary interfere with our everyday life otherwise nothing, we take it for granted. Sometimes I like to think I have a parallel life. At night, just as it happens in reverse during the day, I am unaware of what I did when I was awake, I wear different clothes and wake up on the other side, where I have another life. They interfere with each other only when there is something serious that does not work on one or the other side of that thin horizon. Otherwise they continue independently, like two parallel lines. Maybe in my dreams I do a different job, I live in another house, I have other animals, other friends, maybe I also have a husband and children, who knows … I am unaware of my daytime life just as I am unaware of mine during the day dream life. It’s not a very original thought, I know it from myself. But it still fascinates me terribly.

STORY OF A GIRL ON THE BENCH

It happened a month ago. I was sitting in the car, as my father was driving around, he was ready to buy something; the car was a patched church from a near to the park and to pass the time I observed the people, parrot and they could not see me, because the windows yes, but I, if they shouted, could also hear them. There were many groups and small groups scattered around the park, they laughed, joked. I noticed a girl sitting completely alone on her bench, it was the bench closest to my car so she could see well her big sad eyes that each both guarded in all over the park and, by chance and met others immediately turned to look down. Her dark hair was tied up in a disorderly fashion, in a notebook on her legs and a pen in her left hand, she was left-handed. He stared at the notebook with the tip of the pen between his teeth and, each wrote, as unexpectedly encourages inspiration. Every now and then he would stop and get in his way quickly. I saw a tall handsome boy approaching the bench, he asked for something pointing to the bench, read nodded and then he sat down. I lowered the window a little, just not to be seen and heard, where absolutely to see how it ends. The girl had closed the notebook leaving the pen inside, the boy raised his hand in the air and started shouting according to someone to approach. And here comes a beautiful girl, the classic barbie who stands next to him. -Sorry, we’re leaving soon, we have to wait for some friends but we’re giving a lot of standing time and there is no free bench, it bothers you say it .- She shook her head with a forced smile and then turned away from the Other part, not from saying no. He made a strange face, put his hand on his forehead and shook his head and I understood. He probably thought -How could I think that it was come here for me, what a fool! in a romantic puzzle. Then he lowered his head, I knew what he was feeling, I knew it very well. The people who passed in front of that bench turned around for a moment to look at it, pointed at it to the rest of the group and then a general laugh was heard. She pretended not to hear, not to notice, but her knuckles had turned white from how much she held the pen. Another boy approached her and without asking anything he sat down, she didn’t even look at him. He did not call anyone, he stood there and looked in front of him, clapped his hands on his legs and his right leg moved nervously. He asked the girl for the time and she coldly answered him, without even looking into his eyes. Then he continued to write. After a few seconds of silence he asked her -What do you write? – Her pen fell on the ground, she didn’t pick it up and then said: -Nothing that could interest you- -That I should judge- -The truth is that I have never read to anyone what I write- – Are you a writer? – -I would like to, but it’s not my gift, let’s say .- -How do you know if no one has ever read what you write? – -I need to judge what I write. – No it is not true. Do you think you are beautiful? – -I? Of course not .- -Here, you see? For me you are instead, and in my opinion it is the same thing with what you write- -I really have to go now- said the girl getting up. The boy stood there saying nothing, watching her as she walked away. After a while he got up too, and with his hands in his pockets went to the opposite side. I was shocked, I didn’t understand why she left, she wasn’t used to being complimented and she probably couldn’t handle the situation. I would have liked to get out of the car and stop her, tell her there was nothing to fear, to try to be happy, but how could I if, in the end, I am like her? And so a month went by, I didn’t think about it anymore. Yesterday I was walking around the town with a friend of mine, I was talking to her quietly when at a certain point I saw her, the girl from the park, she had loose hair and a beautiful smile and, you know the nice thing? He was holding hands with that boy, they walked past me and I looked at them for a while. Who knows what had happened, from that afternoon to that moment, what story there was, I wanted so much to know it, but, for the moment, I’m content to imagine it. I just hope they will be happy.





WHEN I WAS ALIVE

As a young girl I imagined a different future and being an artist (I don’t get high nor smoke or drink, I’m an atypical artist I know) I thought that my skills, both artistic and intellectual (I always had excellent grades in school) would have me taken far, in every sense. I have always dreamed of a life off the cursed island, Sicily, because as soon as I grew up a little and became old enough to understand certain social dynamics, I felt suffocated in my aspirations. My parents wanted me to finish my studies, find a rich husband and get married and bake some grandchildren for them. Instead I didn’t do any of this. I have not followed any rules of social life that tradition imposed. Immediately after high school I went abroad to pursue my artistic dream but I was forced to return because my mother was sick and I took on my responsibilities as a daughter and still do it today and in return I do not receive than criticisms and always negative judgments. In part you are right, I have not been able to get even the minimum of what I aspired to in my artistic life but on the other hand I have a situation that everyone envies me.
Of course, after having understood how things are going, after having discovered that “either you follow the rules of the market or you stay out of every field”, the choice to continue on the difficult and fruitless path of art is truly crazy. But I can’t turn my back on myself and my fantasy, and especially in recent times if I hadn’t had all these dreams with me yet, I think I wouldn’t have been able to go on. Sometimes instead I say to myself, trying to convince myself, that it would have been better not to have these dreams at all and not to have all these creative abilities, since up to now they have not brought me anything concrete because I do not compromise for any reason and I do not I want to sleep with anyone to get credit. This crisis due to covid pays for itself first of all precisely those sectors of genres that are considered unnecessary, and art is one of them. Certainly having a nice painting hanging on the wall does not fill people’s stomachs so even I wouldn’t feel like persuading someone to buy a painting rather than buying groceries. First of all, I myself have had to give up those beautiful things that make life more pleasant (dinners out, accessories, hairdressers, cinema, theater, concerts, cosplay fairs, …) and so why shouldn’t others give it up too ?! The covid spared no one. So what’s the point of creating so many beautiful things if they have to remain closed in a box or drawer? Being an art therapist seems nonsense. Working with autistic children seems inconsistent. Yet it requires a lot of patience and a lot of control. But I never talk about my passion for saving children.

EXTREME MAKE UP

In an era in which Kate Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge and wife of the heir to the throne of England, nonchalantly flaunts the same dress on several occasions, clearing the practice of recycling against which fashion addicted have pointed the finger for many years, It is no surprise that more and more companies are emerging on the Web that make second-hand clothes and accessories their specialty. Yet, the idea that Karen Horiuchi had when she founded Glambot.com is definitely new: instead of t-shirts, tops, skirts and dresses, the company has focused on make-up, selling eyeshadows, foundations at discounted prices. and even used and “refurbished” make-up brushes.
She’s good, wear makeup as well. A little mascara and a trickle of pencil. Put a brush of powder on it too and be careful not to forget your dear friend blush. Put whatever you want in it, and then get out. Have fun, drink, laugh, joke, scream, don’t care, live! But then you will have to go home and take off that mask that you created yourself adapting it to your face. You didn’t think about this huh? You can’t wear it forever, it’s a mask destined to be taken off, sooner or later. It is one of those masks that make you look beautiful at first; but then its beauty gradually fades away and all that remains is your true beauty; the one you have never noticed, because it lies in simplicity, in small gestures, in the most hidden details. That true beauty that you have never shown anyone; the one that no one knows; the one no one knows exists. Maybe because you don’t want anyone to see it, or maybe you think that, once it is revealed, nobody would appreciate it. And the funniest thing of all is that others do the same thing to you, without your knowledge. Because this is now a world of masks in which the actors who wear them are none other than the protagonists of this film called “Life”, where appearing is more important than being; where the story of being beautiful inside, nobody cares. Where nobody ever thinks that perhaps it would be better to be hated for who they really are, than loved for that fucking mask that we insist on wearing to please others.
Why do you stay in front of the mirror for hours before you go out? There is always someone more beautiful than you. Why do you look at the clock every five seconds? So much gives you the hole. Why do not you eat? You suck even with ten kilos less. Why are you wearing makeup? No one ever looks at your eyes anyway. Why are you hoping for it? Nothing good ever happens to you anyway.
All women need makeup. Don’t let anyone tell you a different thing. The only woman who was pretty enough to go without makeup was Elizabeth Taylor and she wore tons of it. “A few days ago I came across this phrase written as a caption under a photo shared on instagram by a fashion blogger, I felt offended and I I’m angry. The girl defines herself as a “fashion influencer” and this made me reflect, because actually she is a girl who is very active on social media and has a following of about 33,000 people, mostly girls who could potentially take her as a model and follow what he says, being influenced. I wondered how it is possible to write such a thing, to get the message across that everyone needs to wear makeup, to get the message across that they are not “enough”. how to make this girl reflect on the fact that it is not a good message at all. A friend of mine commented, in a very calm and open way to dialogue. , in response, the girl deleted the comment, changed the caption (without much improvement, however) and blocked my friend. I think that all these girls who have all this following could have great opportunities to pass important messages, to influence in a positive and constructive way instead they get lost in these frivolities, they remain on the verge of superficiality … Probably because that’s what “sells” “, this is what” earns “. The baseness that is raised and acclaimed pisses me off.
Many think about the type of girl they would like: tall, short, brunette, blonde, eec… but I think about when. I would like to meet her in the morning, still sleepy because the night before she studied a little too much, without makeup and with the overalls, because having gone to sleep late she obviously woke up late and left the house in a hurry. If on that occasion I find her beautiful I do not dare to imagine how she will be once dressed well and made up. So dear girls, don’t wear too much make-up like clowns because simple you are beautiful …

LUNATIC GIRL

I love myself as I am.
With strengths and weaknesses.
Black days and rainbows.
Paranoia and insecurities.
Crooked moons and bipolarity.
Logorrheic and despotic.
Break boxes and always on his.
But above all, always myself.
She was no ordinary woman, one with a nice pair of legs, a nice breast, a nice butt or a particular face, I don’t even know if she was really aesthetically beautiful. She had the wrinkles of her years, of her experiences, an angular character, she was complex, almost shy, twisted … Yet she was so beautiful in her doing, in her love, in her infinite being. In everything he did you found hidden all his charm, he had on him the wild scent of freedom, dreams, concreteness, passion. She was not perfect, on the contrary she was moody, at times unpleasant and yet, in every defect, in every excess there was the essence of her being “perfect” because “bastardly sincere”. No, she was definitely not an ordinary woman, her heart extended towards infinity, infinite as the sea is, as the universe is and as deep as the ocean. Yes, he had all the wrinkles of his years, that stubborn, almost unshakable character, he didn’t mince words, often beaten down but never defeated. It was enough for itself, it made sure it was enough. Life had “given” her a lot of tears, but she went on finding a way to dry them by herself. Yes, she was a woman, complicated … a tangle of woman. Call her beautiful? Yes, beautiful, complex and mysterious She had to be stripped from the inside, taken and dragged without asking too many questions, because too many questions would not be answered in words. She had a head, heart and soul and she wasn’t a nice pair of legs, a nice breast. Although she was “nothing special” … she was extraordinary with those who entered her heart and put her heart, strength and passion into everything she did.
I have a difficult character. Too proud, perhaps too moody. I hardly feel anything and if someone goes away I go away too without asking for explanations. I could not bear the idea of ​​submitting myself or depending on someone, first of all there is me. I’ve lost so many people and I’ve earned a reputation for being heartless, but I feel my heart … at night when I’m alone and it’s the saddest sound I’ve ever heard. But I hide it. I hide my emptiness, my good side, my desire to love. I am myself only when I want and above all with whom I want!

OH MY DEAR BEAUTIFUL SOUL

Outward beauty is the obsession they have instilled in us since childhood. physical beauty is always expected from women and wherever you turn, every mass media proposes models of perfect beauty that we women yearn to reach. From an early age they give us these dolls with golden hair and slender body, dressed in princesses, queens, models … then the cartoons arrive, those where she turns into a beautiful little witch who makes the most impossible spells and here we are dreaming of disguises magnificent to become what we are not. This ideal of ourselves that they always put us in front of me broke the boxes from the beginning. I was an ugly duckling turned swan who preferred to return ugly duckling. Like a butterfly that comes out of the chrysalis and decides to become a caterpillar again! I cover myself, I hide, I never reveal myself, I leave no trace of myself. Because beauty rules, commands, gets crowds of men in tow, gets so many things, but then what? what remains? I lived as a beautiful and an ugly one, it almost seems like a movie, yet it is true. The problem is not with us, but with men. I was a tomboy girl, an ugly duckling who later became a white swan. And I couldn’t be anywhere without being bothered by someone. I mean that centuries have passed but men continue to judge women only by their physique and all the fights that many women have done have been of no use. Think of a world without the canons of beauty, without anyone judging the other ok or not ok, based only on physical appearance. This is the only thing that is talked about everywhere, the inner aspect is so neglected by everyone and now we live in a world where the beauty of the body comes first. and down pills for weight loss, liposuction, now cosmetic surgery that reigns and goes crazy, and we women are always there to change us, trying to make ourselves perfect, for whom? for him! for them! and what do they do? here they are, blessed and fed up in front of the television watching the game, playing at the play station without the thought of either the extra pounds or the costume fitting. we kill each other between diets, retouches, make-up and stuccoes and they are calm in their princes’ beauty acclaimed by our loving eyes. “dear, you are beautiful … for me”, this is the typical phrase of those who are actually saying “you are not beautiful but I like you” and yet then you find them peeking at the tissue on duty with their buttocks uncovered. and U.S? Here we are again, after a moment of absolute joy, in moisturizing, slimming, exfoliating, modeling creams … and all for what? for him! He is the ruler of the world, he with his eyes that seem inattentive but capture our every failure, even if he were an engineer, and as soon as a few wrinkles furrow our face or some fold is formed in the belly, oh my God, tragedy, he will not love us anymore . Relief! Help! here we are again on a diet, pills, herbal teas, infusions, spells to become what he wants, what he dreams of. he who? He! we are prisoners! we are prisoners of the opinion of men, who would gladly do without our heart and soul and our interior. if it weren’t for that strange little word called Love that plays bad jokes.

MY FIRST TIME IN VENICE

We were on the train and we were approaching Venice. After Mestre I start to feel a smell in the air .. A strong smell coming through the windows. It was hot and the windows were all open. I smell better and finally smell the sea. I start crying like a desperate one. All the people turn and they all look at me with concern. But it wasn’t desperation. They did not know that it had been three very long years that I had not seen and heard the sea. So smell that well known smell it was beautiful. And then once we got to Venice I was shocked by its beauty. The very fact of not having cars around was fantastic. Then as soon as I arrived, from a side street, in front of the colored marbles of San Marco I was moved again. Because those colors, those shapes, everything was like that

Creativity Is a State of Mind

‘Art is not just about another beautiful painting that matches your dining room floor. Art has to be disturbing, art has to ask a question, art has to predict the future.’
(Marina Abramovic
)

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.jimcarrollsblog.com/blog/2020/9/17/marina-abramovic-creativity-is-a-state-of-mind%3fformat=amp

MORE BEAUTIFUL

What do you ask the people of this society? To be efficient, brilliant, beautiful. What’s so much about the women of this time? The trick. Because women always have to be perfect. They always have to be beautiful to be noticed and to be considered. women can never forget in their lives that they must always be beautiful. If they do not show themselves at their best they are considered witches, mussels, zombies. In short, women are always required to take care of their appearance. And women spend a lot of money to buy make-up products. They spend a lot of money going to the gym. To make destructive diets. Women are required to have an image always suitable for their role as females. If they don’t show this picture of themselves then they’re lesbians, or crazy, or depressed. A woman who neglects is considered depressed. If you don’t reflect the current fashion model then you are out of every pattern and therefore out of every round of friendships and stay alone. If you don’t talk about all the topics women talk about, then stay alone. Women themselves marginalize you, women themselves are the cruellest throws at other women.

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