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Naomi Lee

@intiniermoments-blog / intiniermoments-blog.tumblr.com

Melbourne newbie Vegetable eater, cat patter, feminist, aspiring documentary photographer. šŸŒ± "I don't want to be an ant, you know?"
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So I havenā€™t used Tumblr for a few months as per usual... umm

But Iā€™m weirdly struggling under the weight of having lots to say and not wanting to bore everyone I come into contact with so Iā€™m just going to throw it out here...

I am so so so in love. Beyond belief. Itā€™s funny because I thought I was done. Finished. Loveless and empty, trust only a nostalgic idea. How could I ever have the capacity to love someone again? All my love was spent and exhausted on someone who sought to destroy me; I was a dry well, a ruined painting, a muted heart.

So at first being with you was just for fun, a warmth next to me at night, an arterial stint for the time being. But people donā€™t change as much as they think they do, and I became the sucker I have always been when you said I was still gorgeous and you kissed my teary face.

Still, I maintained that love was for other people now, and I let you corral me in your fear and indecision and selfishness. I didnā€™t know you well, but I knew that you meant well. I saw your actions not as malicious intent but as the manifestation of the same resistance to pain that I was feeling. Not a lot of people understood that.Ā  I grew a little sadder day by day since the anniversary of dadā€™s death, a sort of seasonal affective disorder that stuck around longer than it was welcome. It had the hope seeping out through my feet as trailed around behind you. And then oddly enough, as I lay with my head on your lap, eyelids heavy, it occurred to me that I was in love with you. Well - that I loved you - I think being in love is a shared experience. Oh no.

I wanted to tell you but I was afraid, embarrassed even, so I drew it on your back that time we were watching Inherent Vice. I wonder if you knew.

I told you later that day and you pretended I didnā€™t.Ā 

Defence mechanisms kicked in and I thought I had to get out before I humiliated myself. Someone who out of context could have been someone with potential took me home after I told you I couldnā€™t do it anymore and I let things implode. Maybe just collapse is a better word here - it was certainly nothing fantastic.

I told you straight away because you had called me 10 times thinking I had hurt myself - not untrue in a way - and I braced myself for the anger I had learned to expect from men whose expectation I had dared not to meet.

But it never came.Ā 

What did come was sadness. Sorrow. Sorry. Love.

You said you loved me.

I said I loved you too.

And what I learnt from you in those confusing few days (and thatā€™s all it was somehow) was that evil was far from inherent, love could be unconditional and forgiving and true. Thatā€™s what made me cry the most.Ā 

So a series of events most painful and trying became the leap of faith we were both afraid of. And now itā€™s just simple. I always thought the lesson I had to learn was to be aĀ ā€œgood girlā€. But that wasnā€™t the lesson at all. The lesson was that I was deserving of love and worth more than being pushed around and publicly denounced and laughed at. He thought he was teaching me a different lesson too, but I learned from him that people can be evil at heart.

So here I am, and I feel like marshmallow, chocolate mousse, your mattress.

There are so many best parts of this, I couldnā€™t begin. Today my favourite part is that you are my equal. You do not seek to put me beneath you, nor do you make the mistake of making a manic pixie dream girl out of me. (Maybe you do but youā€™re pretty quiet about it.)

You say such nice things it makes me cry, I am almost afraid to believe them, but what good am I to you if I donā€™t? I love you so much. I love that dorky smile you do when you look at me now. I love it when you sniff me under the pretence of seeing if I need a shower. I love that you still want to see me even when I have been struggling to breathe and looking for an out. I love that you always want to hold my hand or have your arm around me. I love that we are safe together. A team. A seemingly unlikely pair perhaps, or maybe just right.Ā 

I love that you love me for exactly who I am, because I didnā€™t think anyone could. Let alone someone like you.

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Hi Tumblr! I turned 24 on Wednesday, and I kind of look like an adult now? I mean... kind of... I hope you are all really really well <3

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Hi babies!! Miss you all so much. Sometimes I think about writing on here again but I just don't think I need it anymore :) It's almost 6 months since I moved to Melbourne, time has gone so quickly! Guess that old adage about fun is true. I have never been so happy, it's so weird, sometimes I get anxious waiting for something to go wrong but then I realise literally nothing is going to, haha.Ā  It's really nice having lovely friends that often wanna hang out, and be seeing someone who just likes me unquestioningly? It's really wonderful. Um yah so I dyed my hair orange and I had to get glasses, so I thought I'd give you an updated selfie and remind you all that I still do love you all, and if you wanna keep up with me now you can atĀ http://instagram.com/awholetwohalves <3 Love yourselves in any and all contexts, you deserve that.

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Hi babies! I miss you all!

I haven't actually handed out the url to my new blog yet, I've kind of enjoyed having my own little world, but thank-you for all the emails requesting it! I might give it out soon :)

I am feeling really great and happy with life and things are so good and even when I've felt down I've been reminded so quickly of how blessed I am.Ā 

I'm super active on Facebook and Instagram, feel free to friend me there <3 https://www.facebook.com/naomi.lee.beveridge http://instagram.com/awholetwohalves

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Anonymous asked:

Don't confused 'oppression' with 'first world problems', it's a rookie error among feminists.

Wow, okay buddy, youā€™re BEGGING for a takedown here.Ā 

First world problems? Not a thing. People who say shit like ā€œfirst world problemsā€ are massive racist, imperialist, dismissive assholes.Ā 

If youā€™re ever tempted to say ā€œfirst world problems,ā€ do me a favor, and pull down a map. Tell me EXACTLY where the ā€œthird worldā€ is. Make sure you correctly identify Switzerland as part of the third world, and Turkey as part of the First World. Donā€™t forget that Djibouti is a part of the first world.Ā 

Literally sit down and learn what ā€œthird worldā€ means and why people from nonwestern nations Ā think itā€™s a total bullshit term.Ā 

Second: you think people in the so-called third world donā€™t care about shit like makeup, and love, and technology? You think they donā€™t care about internet harassment? You think women over there donā€™t care about street harassment? You think they donā€™t care about fashion and clothes? You think they donā€™t care about music and video games?

Because THEY DO.Ā 

Right now, there is a woman in burundi teaching herself how to do a cut-crease eyeshadow look. Guaranteed.Ā 

"Third world" nations have fashion shows and fashion magazines. They care about street harassment. They care about the internet. They play video games. They know more about anime than your sorry ass every will. And the idea of "first world problems," which makes it sound like all women in "third world" nations are dealing with starvation, rape, war, acid attacks etc.Ā Is bullshit.

Rank.Ā 

Bullshit.Ā 

Women in Iran spend shitloads of money on makeup. Women in the DRC donā€™t just care about rape. Rape - the ONE THING westerners can be expected to know about women in Congo-Kinshasa - ranks NUMBER FOUR on the list of issues women in Congo want addressed. Political participation is number 1. Economic empowerment is number 2. Women in India are passionate about information technology, and you know what they hate? Coming to the United States, where Indian women in STEM are suddenly considered LESS GOOD than their male colleagues.Ā Ā My friends in Senegal taught ME how to download movies off the internet. Zimbabwe has a fashion week.Ā 

As Teju Cole points out:Ā "I donā€™t like this expression "First World problems." It is false and it is condescending. Yes, Nigerians struggle with floods or infant mortality. But these same Nigerians also deal with mundane and seemingly luxurious hassles. Connectivity issues on your BlackBerry, cost of car repair, how to sync your iPad, what brand of noodles to buy: Third World problems. All the silly stuff of life doesnā€™t disappear just because youā€™re black and live in a poorer country. People in the richer nations need a more robust sense of the lives being lived in the darker nations. Hereā€™s a First World problem: the inability to see that others are as fully complex and as keen on technology and pleasure as you are.

One event that illustrated the gap between the Africa of conjecture and the real Africa was the BlackBerry outage of a few weeks ago. Who would have thought Research In Motionā€™s technical issues would cause so much annoyance and inconvenience in a place like Lagos? But of course it did, because people donā€™t wake up with ā€œpoor Africanā€ pasted on their foreheads. They live as citizens of the modern world. None of this is to deny the existence of social stratification and elite structures here. There are lifestyles of the rich and famous, sure. But the interesting thing about modern technology is how socially mobile it isā€”quite literally. Everyone in Lagos has a phone.ā€Ā 

95% of the people who use bullshit expressions like ā€œFirst world problemsā€ have NO IDEA what life is like for people in the so-called third world. You just like sitting there derailing.Ā 

And for the record? As a white, western feminist, DAMN RIGHT I concentrate on issues in the United States. Because when white western feminists try to ā€œsaveā€ women outside the west? We do a SHIT job of it. Weā€™re the ones who bowl over actual congolese women, and what THEY want, and say that the #1 issue affecting them is rape. We become arms of the imperialist patriarchal complex.Ā 

Classic example: the guy who was ruling Egypt for the British got british feminists to help him in his anti-headscarf campaign in Egypt. Why did he hate headscarves? Because he wanted to *break the spirit* of Egyptians. Not because he gave a shit about womenā€™s rights.Ā How do I know that?Ā Because he was the head of the anti-womenā€™s-suffrage group in England.Ā 

When women who live outside the west do awesome things, I will signal-boost them, and I will do whatever they think I can do to help. But I follow their lead. Because these are THEIR issues, and THEY know what matters to them. Not me.Ā 

FINALLY:Ā My problems are not trivial. My problems are not bullshit. My problems are not to be dismissed with your racist, imperialist logic. Dress codes and makeup and music and books and video games MATTER. They matter to me. They matter to my life.Ā 

So fuck you.Ā 

And fuck your assumptions.Ā 

And maybe consider that YOUR first world problem?Ā Is that you canā€™t ā€œsee that others are as fully complex and as keen on technology and pleasure as you are.ā€Ā 

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I just want to say, Tumblr, the world is a fucking beautiful place and if it wasn't for you, I doubt I'd be here. That being said, I will be endeavoring to leave you here on my journey. This week I have met my idol of ten years, found myself living in a beautiful city, experienced the best kiss of my life and finally caught on fire the way I always wished I would. I have never made a better series of decisions in my life. I've left the shit that was clouding my vision behind on every level. I've realised that no one can take away my power. I have realised that I am infinitely better than those who try. And now I'm going to change the entire fucking world or die trying. Nothing is going to get in my way. I have a new personal blog that will be quite open, honest, thorough and filled with photograohy, videos and upcoming projects I am in the process of establishing. This will be a password protected blog as I can unfortunately see that certain people (whom I have explicitly asked to fuck off out of my life) continue to add visit counts to my blogs' stat counter. Email me at naomibeveridge@gmail.com if you would like to continue following my personal journey, wherein I will entrust you with the password. Again, my deepest and most honest thankyou to all who have loved me here. This isn't the end. This is only the beginning. Stay awake.

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I'm free. And I'm so fucking happy and holy shit everything is so right. Sitting with Dawson and getting a taxi alone so I don't miss a second of this perfect night. I'M FREE AND I'VE NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY.

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Today marks 14 consecutive days of being alive and not crying! As a big cryer, this is a huge thing for me. Huge. Especially considering I moved interstate 13 days ago.Ā  Things are pretty excellent.

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