I am clearly procrastinating

Just finished my bibliography - it's 4 pages and looking impressive! I always do things in reverse, e.g. I got my first phone pouch before I got my phone, I got my SD cards before I got my first digital camera, I read the endings of books before I read the start... the point of this is - I still haven't got a paper! less than 24 hours to the deadline. Ladida.

OH OH. Epiphanic moment! ;) Maybe if I buy my wedding dress first my future husband will magically materialise!! I think I want the - and diana and joanna will know this - lacey Monica Lhuillier one we swooned over :)

So anyways, in my boredom and lame-ass attempt to procrastinate (I cannot write that intro.. HEEEELP) I searched 'leah' on blogger and found this:

http://survivorthriver.blogspot.com/

She is a survivor of incest and her blog is basically there to help others in similar abusive situations, or for survivors to share their thoughts and experiences. It's astonishing - to little sheltered me at least - that her family insists none of it happened, and it's clear that she hates her dad, who seems to be a terrible person and liar, and mum, who for some unfathomable, possibly cowardly, reason condoned what was happening at home by feigning ignorance. I guess I could try to put myself in the mother's shoes - the fact is I've married this monster who's doing dreadful things to my daughter. I could choose to admit to myself that this is awful and has to stop, I have to leave this man and keep my daughter safe. Or I could pretend none of this horrible, horrible sordid stuff is happening in my superficially perfect Jewish family; I could be blind and choose to believe that this man I love, trust and chose to entrust all of my life and hopes to - my husband - is a good, decent man, and keep my marriage intact.

It is a terrible dilemma. Now that I've thought it through I don't think I can condemn her for it. ..I often wonder there's such a thing as loving your husband and your children - all your children - equally. Because I've often felt that my very own mother loves us, her kids, a lot more than she loves my dad.

But anyways, she posted this poem on her blog and I'm reminded of it (sitting in one of my poetry anthologies at home). I like it very much.

Still I Rise
Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.