Art Is A Hammer

So I was thinking about this random quote: "Art is not a mirror. Art is a hammer." And I was thinking about art. And Ivan E. Coyote. At the same time. Cause I'm good like that. I discovered Ivan via Sugarbutch, and zie- this is a good person for nonspecific pronouns- is just brilliant. Amazing. I think every femme has her list of butch heartbreakers, and mine generally involves intellectuals. I mean, I can't discount k.d. lang or Dylan Rion, but my heart (and uh, any other regions) throbs for brainy butches: Rachel Maddow, Alison Bechdel and of course, studly genius Sinclair Sexsmith. So there's this video of this edible and nutritious butch, reading a short story with quite the Canadian accent (is there a word for that?). I have never heard that much Yukon in one person's voice before. And zie's reading about the methods and difficulties of packing, and I nearly swooned right there in front of my monitor-not to mention in front of my fiancee. I was entranced.

And this was before I was even really aware of hir words. And I had to start the video over, and actually listen to it (did you know blushing makes it hard to concentrate? I didn't). And hir writing is... warm. It's funny, and accessible, and sometimes a little wistful, and I savored it. I went to the library and read The Slow Fix, which was all the library had, and when I was done I wanted more.

Zie's writing about Canada, and often about solitude; I should be cold, shivery and lonely (I'm a rather empathic reader) when I'm done, but I'm not. I'm warm and as I read I'm smiling . It's like hearing stories about my family, and since many of hir stories describe being gay in a not-very-post-homophobic world, in a way it is.

Zie describes hirself as a "kitchen-table storyteller", and that's exactly what it is. And I love it.

I enjoy being taken by surprise by art. I was taking a class in Florence and one day, we went to an art gallery. "Cezanne in Firenze"; Impressionist art. Heretofore I'd always thought of Impressionism as 'pretty'. Monet, Van Gogh. Starry Night, Water Lilies, all that jazz. And then at some point while I was wandering around absorbing these paintings... I changed my mind.

The color, the strokes of the brush, the way you can tell how the artist was feeling about the subject or the day or the paints just from the damn painting! -it just blew my fucking mind. I stayed for two hours, I spent my lunch and dinner money on a book of the exhibition's art, I couldn't stop talking on the way home. I was wired, like I'd had an adrenaline orgasm and a pot of espresso. I was on fire, it was a revelation. I was thunderstruck by Impressionist art.

I know there're some people that don't feel the same fiery passion for their spouses that I can feel about art, or sex, or teaspooning against injustice, or sometimes even discussions of philosophy. (Yes, I'm serious.) And I am sorry for those people.

And I guess the point of all this is that Ivan E. Coyote's work didn't hit me like a hammer. And I was okay with that. As I read, it opened itself like a window, it wrapped around me like a blanket, it felt good under my hands like a leash or a steering wheel, like it wasn't going to take me anywhere I didn't want to go.

Something I know is that people revere classics, but they read stories. I feel as though I have found a friend in this author, and when the world is sad and scary I'd rather have a blanket than a hammer.

I Watch TV

So in stunning news, I watch TV! This TV-watching doesn't just include educational things like MSNBC, the History Channel (a favorite of Ferret, actually), or the Bran Network. I watch cartoons, oh yes I do. Among others, I watch Chowder, and Spongebob, and Phineas and Ferb. Now what do these shows have in common? Well, the first two were both worked on by the same guy, C. H. Greenblatt. (Yes, that's his real name. He also worked on The Grim Adventured of Billy and Mandy, which I also LOVE.)

Anyway, that AND! They are some of my favorties to watch. They are all lots of fun and not too think-require-y and generally not problematic in terms of the messages or ideas behind the storylines. They usually have good messages or (in the case of Chowder) are so cool to look at that I don't care that the message is something like "Don't fill up your boss's kitchen with a family of fart-clouds". Don't ask.

The not-silver lining here, the problem that I have with these 3 particular cartoons- but not JUST these 3- is the female characters. All 3 shows are centered loosely around a pair of male characters. When they have ladiez onscreen, it's to be a romantic interest or a punchline. The female characters are usually more 2-dimensional and less sympathetic than the guys. And that makes me sad, because I wish there was something I could watch on TV for pleasure that didn't make me wince at every girly giggle or shrieking harpy caricature.

But alas, guess not.

Let's get started, shall we? I'll be listing the main characters in each show, a couple supporting characters, and some traits, as well as whether or not we are meant to like each character. Me snarking about gendered behavior will be in italics.

SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS: Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? This show is about a sponge who's a fry cook being happy and well-dressed at the bottom of the ocean. Has been applauded for lack of sex and violence. Most of the characters don't exhibit stereotypical gendered behavior, which is refreshing. However, there're a few, and my main problem is that the female characters get way less screen time and are more often the butt of the joke than the male characters. Another case of male-as-default.

-Spongebob: Likable. Happy. Naive. The star of the show. Loves being a fry-cook, weirdly.

-Patrick: Likable, sort of. Very, very stupid. The literal star(fish).

-Mr Krabs: Crusty and really stingy, but sometimes sympathetic.

-Squidward: A squid, Spongebob's neighbor. Not likable. At all.

-Sandy Cheeks: Her name is a pun. Ha, ha. She's a literal outsider (a squirrel, underwater). She is shown as being smart, usually. Also a tough, athletic karate expert, which is refreshing. Unfortunately, she is in less episodes than, say, Squidward.

-Mrs. Puff: Spongebob's long-suffering driving instructor. A widow. Not a main character, but the only other regular lady in the series, besides

-Pearl: Mr Krabs's incongruous whale daughter. Spoiled girly teenager <-- Gasp! I've never seen a teenage girl depicted as bratty and spoiled before!

-Plankton: The bad guy on the show. Shouts a lot, and is really small. Has some issues, and I think this because of

-Karin: Plankton's wife, whom he made. Because she's a COMPUTER. Yeah. And every once in awhile he threatens to "unplug her" or "take her apart and build a new model" cause that's not creepy at all. <-- Wife as nagging and unsupportive.

CHOWDER: Fairly new to the scene. Features cool animation and visuals, as well as several different media like puppets or claymation. It's about an apprentice chef in a fantastic city where everyone has the name of a food. A lot of the humor is crude or absurdist. We are meant to understand that there are flaws in all these characters. Strangely enough, we don't often see anyone else cooking besides Mung and Chowder. Not sure why.

-Chowder: Happy. Gluttonous. Inept and scatterbrained. Seriously, would rather eat than cook, and in later episodes, endangers everybody with stupidity.

-Mung Daal: Head chef. Not a bad cook, I think? Patient with Chowder. Married, but still loves "the ladies", who don't generally love him back, as he is not quite as irresistible as he thinks. <--Oh look! Gendered behavior!

-Truffles: Mung's wife. Small and irascible. Everyone in the kitchen is afraid of her. Often yells, especially at her husband. She's the receptionist; we don't see her cook. <-- This would be nice, except it's a catering company. So, yup, lady-as-secretary. Also, lady-as-bitch.

-Schnitzel: Rock monster, sous chef. Really strong, serious, and often aggravated by Chowder. Responsible and long-suffering. Only says "radda".

-Panini: Ms. Endive's apprentice. Competent cook (we assume), feminine and very aggressive. Better cook than Chowder (not that that's hard), but we rarely see her cook. Freakily obsessed with being Chowder's girlfriend. Chowder isn't interested, so of course she stalks him compulsively and calls him "Num-nums". She gets pretty scary. <-- Do I even need to go into detail?

-Ms. Endive: Not likable. Image-conscious. Probably a better chef than Mung, her rival, but we don't get to see her cook often. She's huge, and her size is often a joke. Kind of deranged. Lonely, but treats everyone so badly we see why she's so unpopular. Simultaneously hates men and longs for a relationship. <--Really?? Come on. It's been done, people!

-Gazpacho: Runs the fruit stand. Mung and Chowder are customers, friends, and apparently neighbors. Neurotic and socially awkward. Lives with his mother, who is implied in one episode to be a split personality of him, a la 'Psycho'. Not sure if this is canon, but we never see her. He talks a lot about 'Mother' and describes some pretty creepy things. <--Another dude henpecked by a lady, even if she is... him. Maybe.

Mostly the gender jokes in this show are "Aren't women crazy/demanding/irrational/heartless/really crazy?" There's at least one or two per episode.

PHINEAS AND FERB- This is an awesome show about 2 stepbrothers who spend every day of their summer vacation inventing crazy things and having wild adventures. Lots of running gags and at least one catchy song per episode. Very little meanness and lots of creativity and friendship. They also have several female characters, it's just... you'll see.

-Phineas: Genius kid who has awesome ideas.

-Ferb: Genius kid who's quiet and knows how to build incredible things. The series revolves primarily around the crazy things these two build in their backyard every day of summer, despite the efforts of

-Candace: Their sister who's obsessed with 1)Getting them in trouble for their wacky inventions- meaning first getting their mother to believe her and 2)Her love-interest, Jeremy. <--Lady as spoilsport? Also, does crazy things for a man. Sigh.

-Stacy: Best friend to Candace. Kind of ditzy. Gives advice on shopping and boys. That's about all we see. <--Cause girls don't think about anything else! Unless of course they're

-Isabella: Smart, intrepid, goes on lots of adventures with Phineas and Ferb. Also adorably cute and infatuated with Phineas <--Aww, we were doing so well til that sentence! She's also the leader of

-The Fireside Girls: Mostly-unnamed (they're usually just shown as a group) and ethnically diverse troop of Girl-Scout types who are adventurous, smart and resourceful. Yay!

-Linda: Phineas and Candace's mom, who hides a past as a pop-star and goes around all day doing "mom" stuff. Doesn't seem to have a job. Never believes Candace and in fact, usually suggests she's crazy and mocks her behind her back. <--She's a mom, and that's about all we get.

-Laurence: Ferb's dad. British. Easygoing and a little loopy.

-Dr. Doofenshmirtz: Inept bad guy inventor out to take over the world, starting with "The Tri-State Area!" Played for laughs, definitely. Constantly thwarted by his battles with

-Perry the Platypus: Phineas and Ferb's pet platypus, who's actually a secret agent. Yeah, don't ask. It's funny though.

So essentially, this show is one of the better ones, it's just they have a lot of problematic issues with their treatment of girls. Candace is never believed and told she's crazy, Stacy's a ditz, and their Mom is apparently a SAHM who's utterly clueless. Other than that, though...

So you see? I feel like, even in cartoons we're not safe from gendered stereotypes. These shows are fun shows! Cool to look at, they make me laugh, and they usually aren't so stupid I want to cry (see the later episodes of Fairly OddParents for that). Are there any cartoons out there that're free from the bullshit?

The Four-Hours-O'Sleep Post- with PSA!

So I went to the Shakesville meet-up in Chicago yesterday. And do you know, it was a very long drive. I had such a good time, though; it was totally worth it. But Ferret had work this morning, so we had to drive back later that night. It was Not Fun. I don't recommend it.

But we had such a great time- putting faces to names, having good food and conversation, watching Giant Shark vs. Mega Octopus (no, really, I swear), and laughing so hard I almost fell over. Ferret wasn't really expecting to enjoy herself- she was all grouchy and sick and like "but I don't know anyone!" That all changed when some lurkers at our table broke out the Settlers of Catan game. She was all over that. Which made me happy that she was happy. So cute.

I also got to meet Melissa McEwan, who is possibly the coolest person in the universe. Srsly, you guys, I was having a ~gasp**squee!**~ moment. I won't say Shakesville "changed my life", because that reminds me of a commercial for a weight-loss product- don't ask me, I don't know. I will say it changed the way I thought and felt and articulated about so many things.

So many, people. And I am profoundly grateful to her for creating that place.

I talked to so many great people- everyone was so awesome. I yammered on for 6. Solid. Hours. I have spent so long here in the house alone, talking to no one but the cats, mostly, til Ferret gets home. And she's really not a chatty person. So I felt like a sponge, soaking in all this conversation. And I felt like a floodgate, letting out SO MANY thoughts and feelings and opinions and "Oh my Ceiling Cat this shit I read yesterday is so funny I jizzed. in. my pants" type moments. I just wish that I could have it more often without having to drive for several hours. But I am very grateful for yesterday. And I am so, so glad we did go. We almost didn't, but then we did. Yay!

And I am so, so very out of it right now. Exhaustion blogging, wooooo!

I also wanted to add a PSA:

For those people who are dating Twilight fans- If she tells you she wishes you were more like Edward Cullen, this does NOT mean you should stalk her or attempt to control her life. (Unless she specifically asks you to do those things. Then yeah, get freaky.) What she probably means by this request is that she wants you to adopt a stupid hairstyle and frequently spout cheesy lines about how she's the center of your universe and how life is meaningless without her. You may also need to get some body glitter. (Disclaimer: Even if you do these things, she's probably not going to jump off a cliff if you dump her.)

If she says she's a Jacob fan, this is NOT an invitation to sexually assault her. Even if she doesn't punch you for it, her dad will probably not congratulate you when she tells him about it. She may mean she wants you to turn into a giant wolf, which means you will need to have A Serious Talk about either her preferences or her connection to reality. Good luck with that.

Good Dyke Porn Is Good

I was thinking of that timeless lyric: "Hey fellas (yeah?)/fellas (yeah?)/Grab your left nut and make your right one jealous/"... and decided it needs a lolcat response. And a porn review to go with it. So, here!

Ha! Yes doodz, you now have to grab your own harbls... er nuts.

(Wait, does that even make sense? More importantly, do I care about the sense it does[n't]make?)

It ties in, though: straight folks should be jealous, whether they have nuts or not. I'm not sure they can appreciate this porn of queer fabulousness.

Okay, so maybe watching this awesome porn has got me in a weird, funky, freaky-ass mood. One might even call me Supafly. Or not.

Really, though, how can you not love a porn called "Superfreak" that involves the horny ghost of Rick James (portrayed spifftastically by the director, who is in fact a lady)? Well, maybe you can resist. I couldn't.

Yes, I found some feminist, lesbian, not-for-het-dudes porn, and all I can say is... I'll be in my bunk. Oh, and Dylan Rion can jump my freaky bones any day.

What? I'm a kinky little sex-obsessed perv in my spare time. And by "spare", I mean "all the".

Glad I could share that with you all.

Brought To You By The Letter 'L'

I don't feel like posting anything political. There's a bunch of crap, and most of it is depressing. Go to Shakesville if you want intellectualism this week. I'm posting random shit for a little bit. Tomorrow, kitteh pictures.

Today, the word of the day is aposiopesis. So, yeah...

Discuss!

100% Customer Satisfaction

This has been going around the feminist tubes lately and was far too awesome-tastic not to re-post in its entirety. Hat tip to No, Not You.

Sexual Assault Prevention Tips Guaranteed to Work!

1. Don’t put drugs in people’s drinks in order to control their behavior.

2. When you see someone walking by themselves, leave them alone!

3. If you pull over to help someone with car problems, remember not to assault them!

4. NEVER open an unlocked door or window uninvited.

5. If you are in an elevator and someone else gets in, DON’T ASSAULT THEM!

6. Remember, people go to laundry to do their laundry, do not attempt to molest someone who is alone in a laundry room.

7. USE THE BUDDY SYSTEM! If you are not able to stop yourself from assaulting people, ask a friend to stay with you while you are in public.

8. Always be honest with people! Don’t pretend to be a caring friend in order to gain the trust of someone you want to assault. Consider telling them you plan to assault them. If you don’t communicate your intentions, the other person may take that as a sign that you do not plan to rape them.

9. Don’t forget: you can’t have sex with someone unless they are awake!

10. Carry a whistle! If you are worried you might assault someone “on accident” you can hand it to the person you are with, so they can blow it if you do.

And, ALWAYS REMEMBER: if you didn’t ask permission and then respect the answer the first time, you are commiting a crime- no matter how “into it” others appear to be.

Quote of the Evening

I haven't heard this one, but I'm already looking for a little piece of the internet on which I can plaster it as geek graffiti.

"Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge: it is those who know little, and not those who know much, who so positively assert that this or that problem will never be solved by science.” -- Charles Darwin

I [heart] Darwin.

Via comments at Shakesville.

Anti-Cynicism

So there're lots of things to be cranky about- our lack of cashy goodness, the elitism in Food Network shows, and sexism all the hell over the place.

But today was a good day, and sometimes it helps when I am reminded that not everyone is awful.

Today's case in point: my Ferret. Her birthday is this week, and to celebrate, we went to see "9" (pretty good, by the way) and then wandered over to an arcade. I am not really big on arcades, but since this was her birthday, I smiled and went along. She got a bunch of tokens, had fun playing games, and got a big ol' fistful of tickets.

When the last token was gone, I assumed she was going to go up to the counter and choose some random toy with her winnings. (And annoy me with it all night somehow, because deep down she is six years old.)

And then she told me what she usually does at arcades, and I found myself grinning like a kid.

A minute later, she'd found the youngest kid in the arcade (two little girls about 10 years old) and dropped her pile of tickets on the counter in front of them. We left to the sound of "Thank you! Thank you!!" and joy-squealing.

Sometimes, a little thing is all you need to remember that there are good things in the world. And if I ever doubted it, today would make me absolutely certain that I am marrying the right person.

My Ferret. The BoyScout. My knight in shining armor who spends her spare time rescuing anybody who might need it.

Plus, now she knows I will be much more amenable when she asks to go play arcade games.

From the Facebook Files

My friend said:

'The Vatican issues a prayer for Catholics to say before sex. Apparently shouting, "Oh God" at the end of sex isn't enough.'

September 2 at 10:32am · Comment · Like

Lemur:

Ooh, I know this one:
"Please god, forgive me for having sex with another willing adult and not letting the religious shame propagated by bitter celibate old white guys get the best of me. I know that God's plan does not involve humans having enjoyment not approved by aforementioned bitter old dudes. My bad. Amen."

That's it, right? I amaze me sometimes; it's like I'm psychic! LOL

What can I say? It was a really good moment. Also, I was funny. Go me.

Thoughts?

O RLY?

So Obama said this:

"As you know, I'm pro choice. But I think we also have a tradition of, in this town, historically, of not financing abortions as part of government funded health care."

Blogger RMJ, from Deeply Problematic, says this in reply:

"I have a tradition myself. It's a tradition of not being pregnant. I expect [Obama's] support on that. That's just how things work in the town of my uterus."

Yeah, Obama, you're sounding a little Bush-tastic these days. Please to stop being wimpy and use your powers for good instead of the same old stinky evil.

I will now be using "the town of my uterus" in a conversation as soon as I can. Also, "loinfruit". (It's a contraction of the phrase 'the fruit of my loins'- don't ask. Plus, it's a great name for a rock band!)

Go read her stuff, call out Obama, oh and maybe try to use the word loinfruit today, to see if it amuses you too!

Very Very Random

So I have been off!, adjusting, doing things. Being a pain in the ass, which is like a full time job for me. And stressing. Stressing so much that the muscles in my back are constantly a-twitch with tenseness (that's a bad thing, right?).

I moved across town and enjoy the downtown historical area I now live in. I do not enjoy: having no shower, only a tub. Also: moving big furniture up 2 flights of stairs: NOT FUN. Just in case you are contemplating doing something like that? Don't.
The kittehs are thrilled with the long hallway down which they chase toys (usually jingly balls, at 3 am). I am not thrilled with the carpet in the kitchen (really, don't ask). I do like the window that leads directly out onto the roof. Kittehs not so much- they're miffed that they don't get to go out there and play. They like to wrestle with Ferret and nom her hands. They do not nom my hands. I don't know whether to be offended or just grateful. They are growing, slowly- still small and cute! Nomad likes to strut and display her adorable stub-tail and have it petted. Chaos will occasionally deign to go near me. (Chaos requires extra patience. Of course.) I may get off my ass and post more kitteh pixx in the near future.

I am sorry that I have been reading the Internets but not writing it. Sigh. So sad. I have been reading Tiger Beatdown, because Sady rocks, and reading Shakesville, and feeling bad that Melissa is (it seems to me) too nice to chuck metaphorical heavy objects at people who obviously suck, and these people are on her blog, making her sad.

I have been reading amusing things- A Hilarious Post I found through Shakesville that had me giggling in the library.

I have been playing with useful things- have you heard of Worldcat.org? It is a site that searches libraries. All of them. Everywhere. For whatever book/movie/etc. your twisted little heart desires. How you are to actually get them is your problem, but it does find them.

I have found a blog called Illustrocity with sexy sexy drawings- you should view them. And heap praise on their creator. If I had a working printer I'd print them out and have a fun night with my paints- it's Coloring For Grown-Ups.

That is all I can think of for now. I just wanted to make sure you all know (all 4 of you) that the rumors of my death were highly exaggerated.

On Weddings

So I've been thinking a lot about weddings lately, partly as a way of avoiding thinking about marriage. When I think about marriage I not only have that nervous fear of "can I handle my lover's dirty socks for the rest of our lives?" but also anger at things like power of attorney, insurance coverage, and taxes. So why then would I be thinking about marriage? I'm unmellow enough as it is, yeah?

Because, finally, my ever-fabulous Ferret and I have decided on a date for our wedding. It's months away and it's driving me crazy already. I'm thinking about flowers and food and guests and budgets. I'm rolling my eyes at my own descent into madness: as I make lists and consider aesthetics, I'm a stressed-out combination of classic femme and professional organizer (which is what I am, after all).

I've been not-so-jokingly saying we should elope- weddings are a waste of time and money, they're heterosexist and patriarchal, and who the hell needs to deal with seating arrangements and froufrou when all you really want is a party, followed by a vacation (and at some point in there, lots of sex).

My Ferret changed my mind when I asked her in all seriousness why we didn't just do it and save time, money and stress. She simply replied, "I love you. I want to be with you for always, and I want the world to know it."
And I realized: I want that too.
…I hate when she's right. Damn crafty ferret logic.

That is it: the real and necessary reason behind the ceremony and celebration. All that fuss, all the energy expended and arrangements made and time and money spent and relatives gathered; it's because this is an important moment. I know lots of people still think of this as a coming-of-age rite. I have my doubts about that, knowing lots of single grownups and immature married folks. But either way, committing to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with is a big deal. And all the hoopla is there to tell you and the world that this is important. You've found your love, your life, your partner, and it matters. At least that's how it seems to me.

So when people are less than enthused when I announce my upcoming nuptials, it's hard not to take it personally. My father still hasn't said anything to me at all yet- I thought "congratulations" at least should be a no-brainer. My mother is the one who told me she wasn't sure my father would want to walk me down the aisle.
I have no intention of being "given away"- I'm not a possession, and getting married makes me no less my own person. But it feels like I am blazing a new path here, and I'd like to be able to cling to some traditions as familiar landmarks. (Hey, some we're losing. Fuck that toss-the-bouquet nonsense.)
But to hear that my own father doesn't want to participate in one of the more significant events in his daughter's life; to hear, as I do in my mother's voice, that my parents don't share in my excitement and happiness- it makes me wonder. It makes me reconsider the whole thing. I do have a good relationship with my parents and thought they were used to the idea that their one and only girlchild wasn't going to make that walk with a dude. Now I'm not so sure.

If they can't share in this with me and be as happy about my wedding as they are about, say, my brother's, then what is the point?

…having just typed that, I know that I am lucky that my parents didn't disown, assault, or evict me when they found out (which makes me angry that that happens at all), but that doesn't mean I feel any better about what I perceive as their rejection of the validity of my relationship.

And then I think, fuck 'em. The people who really love me and Ferret for who we are, all we are, will be behind us. We have people who will share this with us. If anybody "isn't comfortable" with us (have you noticed that usually means "I'm homophobic but won't admit it"?), then they can stay away. More cake for the rest of us. I want no one at my wedding who is not a true friend.

Okay, I'm done ranting for now- I have to go look at lacy things and flowers on theknot.com.

Ink Link

So this is my tattoo. It's my first tattoo ever. I decided to make my personal political and get a femme spiral on my shoulder. I then decided to treat you to an extreme closeup of it. Yay!

It is indeed a vine. Points for noticing that. It symbolizes my religion, and also, yes, my incredible pretensiousness.

It's very new in this picture, which explains the shiny tat goo all over it. 

And oh yeah, please ignore the fact that I am very extemely pale. I am Whitey McNoTan von Needstoseethesunmore.

...My very first ink! Squee!

...And here is a kitteh picture, as requested by PhysioProf. And as a refreshing change from me and my epidermis.

 

Chaos and Nomad are conquering the laundry basket. For strategic nap purposes.

Revaluing Beauty

So I was thinking about a comment the lovely SublimeFemme left on my Femmethology post. She said "...Femme revalues beauty and pleasure in a world that largely devalues these things."
This confused me for a sec. If you look, it seems like there is more importance placed on these things than ever. Women, especially, must be beautiful and give pleasure. We have become entitled and spoiled, materialistic consumer-types. Things must "look good" and "feel good" to everyone, otherwise it's not fuckin worth it, amirite? Rockstar and Grandtheftauto for all!
Oh, wait...
Perhaps she was talking about a different kind of value on beauty and pleasure. Maybe she meant taking pleasure in things that don't necessarily harm others. Maybe she meant taking pleasure in beauty that is not self-destructive. Maybe she meant beauty and pleasure that is subjective, and not mandated.
What an astonishing idea!
I think we femmes reject a lot of the patriarchal ideals of suffering for beauty. I know I do. But I also know that I feel a great, slightly guilty pleasure at smooth sheets or new perfume. [Insert your shock at my shameful sybaritism here!]
I feel good when I have a good hair day. (Do I give a shit when I have a bad one? Not really. And that might be an important difference.)
Appreciating beauty when it comes your way is not the same as assuming you're entitled to it all the time. Appreciating sensual pleasures- hot showers, chocolate coffee, orgasms- is not the same as demanding that everything be for your amusement and benefit.

I thing society devalues certain types of beauty and pleasure for men. And I think men have a hard time with that. If a man publicly states that he enjoys a subtle tea blend instead of Redbull(shit), if he buys high thread count sheets, if he takes a moment to look at a damn rainbow, he is mocked by his peers. For a man to enjoy these sensual pleasures makes him womanly and weak (which are synonymous! of course!), as anything identified as "womanly" is inherently less valuable in our society. Men are only supposed to take pleasure in violent or unhealthy things! Like doublebacon cheeseburgers, and makin too much money, and six-packs, and fuckin' drunk chicks, or fightin'!
Rainbows and chocolate and dewy skin are out, boys; sorry.
This is just one of the aspects of "things-perceived-as-'woman territory'-being-devalued-just-because": think about all the jobs, literature, other stuff done mostly by women that is being dismissed as 'unimportant'.
And that is sad. Because these types of little, physical or emotional pleasures are part of what keeps us going in life, I think. We don't get a lot of "big" happy moments in life, and appreciating the little ones is what helps us deal with the bad stuff. If guys aren't allowed to do that, or are only allowed to enjoy "certain types" of pleasures that are often not good for them (or other people), then... well, then life just sucks, I think. It makes life harder for everyone.
We should revalue these things, for everyone. I hope we do.
To ladies, dudes, femmes, butches, and everyone everywhere: go appreciate something pretty. Seriously. Go do something that makes you feel good.
(...No, not that. Something else!)

(Tip o' the hat to the fabulous SF)

Holy crap, Iowa!

Iowa! Yes, Iowa! Not-very-far-from-us Iowa!
...has legalized same-sex marriage!

Hoo-fuckin-ray!
I'm so happy I don't know what to say, except hell yeah, it's about time!
This means that the Heartland is starting to fall. Oh noes, (gasp) Progressivism!
Hopefully by the time the conservo-wingnuts are able to protest, everything'll have settled down and people will realize the sky hasn't fallen.
Although you'd think people could look at Massachusetts (and Canada, and Sweden, etc.) and take note of the fact that their major cities aren't in flames, FFS.

But anyway... Iowa! By unanimous vote! And Vermont too, by the way.
...Bwa ha ha...Today Iowa, tomorrow the world!
(Sorry. Couldn't help it.)

Now I am going to grab my Ferret and start MapQuestin'. Cause, hey, you never know when the urge for a road trip may strike.

Mazel tov everyone!

Femmethology Tour

The Femmethology Virtual Tour begins today!
Hooray!
(I am on it! Holy crap!)

I better get cracking and write something femme-tastic.

...In the meantime, I will write the same random shit I always do and just hope it sounds cool.

But you should check out the site, and the other blogs on the list, many of whom are way more awesome than I.

My tour date is the 10th!

W00t!

Small and Fuzzy Invaders

We have kittens. They are very small and very fluffy and very very cute. We were only going to take home one, but somehow I was railroaded and against my prudent judgement, we ended up with two. 

Their names are Nomad and Chaos, and so far they have been living up to their nomenclature- kitten-bounding all over the house, wandering behind the stove to see what's there, climbing up onto the bed and the top of the couch, squeaking aggressively at tissues, severely disturbing poor Haven (who is not pleased at these small fuzzy invaders), and clambering into the ferret cage whenever I leave it open.

Can we all live to learn together? There are now twice as many animals as humans living in our house. 

There has been so much random crap in the news lately that I thought some fuzzy blogging would be just the thing. Pictures later.

iBleed

So, I am having my period. 

...This is an experiment I'm doing. Have you ever noticed that having lady-parts is like this big, taboo thing? That we are expected to never talk about, ever? It's a conspiracy:

I was harassed when I got my first period in 7th grade- by other girls.

My parents get unnerved when they see tampon commercials on tv. Cause happy floating tampons and ambiguous blue liquids are unsuitable for viewing, or something.

My mother told me to hide my pads in the garbage in case my 10-year-old brother saw them.

This, despite the fact that 50% of the population does, will, or used to have a period!

I feel that this is some bullshit. So, from now on, I don't care that it's an "overshare" to talk about my period. I have one. If it is relevant, I will mention it. If I have cramps, I will say so. I will not wrap my used tampons in 83 layers of toilet paper lest fragile male eyes be traumatized by the sight of blood. If there are people out there who aren't aware that cisgendered females of "reproductive age" have menstrual cycles, it is time they learned. 

Also, if I hear any more men make that stupid "joke" about "Being afraid of anything that bleeds for 7 days and doesn't die", I will... actually, I haven't decided how I will respond yet. I have many options, though! 

Do I:

a) tell him I, personally, am afraid any group of people responsible for 90% of all violence, such as men;

b) respond with "I'd be afraid of that, too! But technically, I'm not releasing blood out of my veins. I'm expelling the unused lining of my uterine wall, which is totally different and not part of my circulatory system!" in the hopes that I will gross him out so much he will shut up;

c) explain that that fucking joke isn't funny, wasn't funny 40 years ago when it was new, and tell him never to talk again because he's abused the privelege;

d) or, when he tells me it's "just a joke", kick him in the nuts- because that would certainly make me laugh... now who's "oversensitive", smartarse?

Any thoughts? Because I know at least one person who's likely to say that to me at some point.

It Breaks My Heart

So I was going to post Part 2 next, and I will, but I wanted everyone who reads my blog- yeah, all 3 of you- to see this video, via Feministe and Shakesville. I cried like a baby and I wish there was a way to make everyone watch it. I'ma go post it on myspace, facebook, anywhere I've carved out a piece of the 'Net for myself. I want to marry my Ferret someday and I hope that when we decide to, we'll be able to.







"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

All New! PSA

So we moved into our new place. And being from a place where the sun actually functions, we didn't think about certain things, like sidewalk salt, that you think about up here. And uh, I fell and broke my ass. Yeah. My ass, knee, and (somehow?) neck were severely battered by my impromptu attempt to get airborne yesterday morning. So now we have sidewalk salt on our very slippery, icy back steps. And I have a really interesting bruise.  If you live somewhere cold, please salt your steps and sidewalk. Pretty please.

(My ass is expected to recover.)

That is all.