Sunday, September 26, 2010

Pathophysiology Of Uterine Polyps

Last Kiss in Hong Kong

The bed begins to be uncomfortable, I do not know how to distribute my own weight on the mattress, blankets are heavy and very warm, I open my eyes for the first time around at 5 am, I obliged, arranging my little body on the mattress more and more 'hard to trying to sleep under the eyelids. I fall into a light sleep wakefulness, during which I watch the clock a few times, until 'at 6.15, which is happy when the sun silently hollowing out of bed now that I think of cement. I put in the bathroom, my things are already 'ready, get dressed, I take my iPod, keys, and I'm going to run in the park in front of the house. The fresh air of spring
slaps me, finally breath. Unleash my thoughts, even heavy ones that I kept anxiously at bay while I was in bed. Running
open to introspection, 'cause no thought and no analysis of facts that burn hurts too much, in fact, the feelings are burned directly into the vent and physical effort. Burn metabolize calories and strong emotions, and it seems that sweating is the body free of toxins and soul of small anxieties and concerns that we drill. Body and soul in movement struggling to metabolites, and the solution, and the vent, if you live a moment without any particular thoughts, running helps us firm up the ass and makes us feel wonderful after a hot shower.
I leave the gate of the house behind him and start to run.
play with my desire for a future without this in a hurry to arrive. I still see
Juan tells me that he does not want to return to Europe at the end of our trip to Asia, Hong Kong and that perhaps will not take 'flight to London with me and will be back' just in Australia, because I do not I want to go. On 30 May, I may go back 'to Europe without him. Maybe .. Maybe ..
I think the discussions in recent days. The will 'to be together can not' frustrate our personal needs, and not always trade-offs work, sometimes they do not happy either.
The number of machines increases.
My mom and my sister are lost on holiday, the first in Sicily, the second in Egypt, are the days, swallowed by the good life, they do not hear. Beate them .. but soon also touches me ..
Light and 'more and more' intense, more mentally ill people like me jogging in the park at this hour of the morning, they will all be victims of crisp spring air that leaves sleep [or will all have a partner who is about to abandon an airport in Asia]?
I think of the fantastic journey that will start soon, I feel like Asia, I guess Bali, Vietnam, Thailand, until the 'India .. and then I think of the possibility 'of a last kiss to Hong Kong. Who knows' .. It 's not the time to think about it. Maybe better that way '..
am serene. What
lighthouse 'grow up?
continue to run.
I think of the weeks left before the departure, everything I buy 'on the road, to send the luggage to London from my sister, the urge to buy a new computer, a mascara by Dior, and a summer dress,' cause no ? anti cellulite cream that 'summer' close to my body and think makes me feel good ..
I run between the different hypotheses that the mind processes, running to lighten, to make it 'no wonder that it becomes disappointing, to remind us that first of all I am, what I want and what they are.
Every morning I wake up without alarm, pendant, about an hour looking for a comfortable place for your arms and legs on a bed hostile, a mammal Russian at my side. Every morning I run. Nada es cierto ..

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Nh Gay Cruising Spots

For centuries, in all cultures of the planet, and the woman 'was deprived of all rights, regarded as a commodity of exchange, goods that passed from father to husband, bartered, sold, donated or repudiated. In all religions We were seen as bearers of sin, the minority in a society 'made up of men, our body was the means of our unique social function, that' the breed. For centuries we have been victims of ignorance and lust of men.
What does it mean to wear a full burqa? It means to be grown from their mothers to be subject to the father, to serving others, being educated means subordination. In some Muslim countries, every chance 'given to women to become educated, work outside the home, and have a life of self-protection by the male and' unthinkable.
A non-life. Arab women share the same mentality that the majority ', and this education passes from mother to daughter, in the the yoke of a culture that excuses everything with religion. The Koran closes the woman in the domestic walls, including duties as a mother and good wife, servile and reverent, prepend men to women, but does not speak specifically of the veil, which is nothing but 'a malevolent creation of his interpreters, also Koran, was written at the time [around 1400 years ago], input 'a considerable migliorioramento status of women, for example by abolishing infanticide, and a strong emphasis on fundamental social change, then if that were innovative, am no more '.
how we feel, without the opportunity 'to vote, drive a car, inherit, choose your partner, divorce, abortion?
And 'a must specify that the Arab world and' varied, Turkey and Tunisia are very forward in the empowerment of women, especially at the legislative level, [which will follow 'the mentality' popular sooner or later], much more 'complicated and 'the situation in Algeria, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia or Pakistan, where women are excluded from social life, completely without rights, peculiar and' the situation of Iranian women, participating actively in the life of the country, as in parliament and in universities', even if hidden by a veil, behind which there are often rigged and women with sexy underwear, in a country that still provides the death penalty by stoning [a thought Sakineh to all of us, Iran's 43 years, sentenced to death penalty by stoning, as accused of adultery], and the Islamic countries in Africa, where the situation is' far behind. Different shades of a single Islam, and women of some of these countries are smothered in a full veil.
France has banned a few days ago the full veil in public, in order to protect women from constrizione of having to wear the burqa and the niqab. The full veil is banned to protect women, as a matter of dignity 'and equal.
You can 'force to freedom'?
The French and 'the first community' Muslims of Europe, between 5 and 6 million people, of which about 2000 women wear burqa or niqab. Paris just hours after he passed the bill, the city 'had to stop, the Eiffel Tower evacuated and subway shut for hours to "risk bomb."
France is exposed to possible hostile reactions from countries like Iran, Algeria and Pakistan, strong criticism from the board of the Islamic faith and the same European Court of Human Rights, with strong repercussions throughout Europe and beyond.
You can 'force to freedom' or should it educate? The women themselves that are to be 'lifted the veil, it will suffer as a violence should have been an intermediate step, starring the same community' Muslim, who, becoming aware of living in a Western country, had helped the community 'more' fundamentalist in a different and more 'emancipated status of women.
I see the burqa as a castration, as a terrible cross that weighs about Muslim women, the limits imposed, and the lack of an independent life is a terrible prison, I am sure that it is necessary to fight the mentality of 'patriarchal and male-dominated Muslim countries, but I think the change should be an essential internal support to the community 'Muslims themselves, in this case, women's associations of Arab women play a key role, aims to help an increasing awareness of the need' to empower themselves, so that Legal change is in step with real support and close to direct interested SO 'to these poor women, with no tools to deal with an independent life "discovery", the veil is violently torn, but they are themselves to take it off, under the pressure of the country in which they live, but' guided and supported in big step from their own community '.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Can Grecian Formula Be Used By Women

Ella sing in the shower .. Hasta El Ultimo Respiro

At four o'clock on the sidewalk. One step after another, rapid and painful, new shoes and the hours spent standing can be felt, scarf and warm winds, now it 's important to let the pain aside and run to the bus stop tram to go home, where it can curl up and whine about myself without words, without explanations and justifications. At home, to pull off the weariness and frustration, to take off these damn shoes and that damn smell of fried food. A light rain
lights all in gray, across the bridge and a fat man in a wheelchair singing their hearts out, immersed in her grief, a terrible-known song, she sings with passion, heedless of the rain, does not ask for small change, there's' no hat timid or jar with a few coins, I lose a few more seconds' peering, exceeds it by continuing to look at it, then speed up, the bridge seems to me very long, the voice out of tune and the music away, suddenly Given that I feel the hand twists the neck take my breath away. I close my eyes and a second deep breath without stopping. Breath. I can breathe, try to focus on something else, and keep walking, ignoring the grip of the throat.
Shy Asian tourists that can not be deterred by the rain, the last stretch of the road tunnel and the bus stop, two minutes pass and the tram. Breath. Really want to take my shoes off and a hot shower. Find a place on public vehicle, but the next stop a plump old salt, can not resist, I give the place, the tram is full, my feet throbbing, I feel cold, and 'full of people, and struggle to inhale air, the problem and 'who are so' bassettina, all these people suffocating me. I think the fat
invalid on the bridge and the involvement that put in its interpretation, eyes closed singing into the microphone stuck in the mouth, indifferent to the rain, and 'carried with the wheelchair, a speaker and a microphone on the bridge more' romantic Melbourne, crying out her grief filtered through songs, singing to himself. I love to sing one of these songs very well known, in English, which I do not know the words and syllables which are not remedied bonfonchiando no word of sense copiuto in any language. I imagine back in time 15 minutes, the same steps on the bridge, the same twinge of pain in the feet, the same movement in arranging the scarf, I arrived on deck, and I see the fat guy who sings strangling the notes, and that I put myself at his side and began to sing with him [me .. maybe no mic], I tune out of tune as they accompany him as I do, and both sing in a fine drizzle and delicate, without being aware of what you dunk in a few minutes. Wrapped in my thoughts
cathartic liberators see that the old lady to whom I gave the place that looks at me without looking up, and I think if you go back to not place him give it up, with sore feet and fatigue that I would she dovebbe cedermelo to me!
Get off the tram, across the road and accelerates towards the door, entered the studio, dark light, the unmade bed, I take off my shoes with a sense of liberation, I slipped off his jacket and sit on the bed. The room - apartment still smells of that night, the blankets and sheets defeats and cold in the kitchen washing dishes.
I put one of my favorite songs, strictly in English, turn up the volume, and I'm in the shower hot and [pathetic but true] singing out loud, thinking of the fat invalid, the old woman from the look rude, in my nearly 29 years, life-world and tuttol'universo that accompanies me. And I sing ... loudly ... Now
breath ..