Saint Dympna's Asylum

Jude watched Gloria struggle. He stared transfixed as she attempted to escape the confines of the straightjacket and claw at herself. Jude’s hands clutched at the heavy white door separating the two of them, he wanted to get back to his duties but was afraid that if he looked away the soft padded room would turn to quicksand and swallow her. Finally one of the fellow nurses greeted Jude and his body jolted to attention, he tried to smile but couldn’t raise his eyes. This nurse, Victoria, had her nose broken last week while sedating a new patient. Jude didn’t sympathize, he’d be angry too if someone kept sticking needles into him. Forcing him to be quiet and still when all he wanted was to shout and run. By the time he raised his head Victoria was gone and Jude stood alone, a mop clutched to his side. He steadily made soapy swirls on the black and white checkered floor counting the steps it took to reach the end of the hall from Gloria’s door.
The other patients were usually quieter than Gloria. The medication they were given made their eyelids droop and their screams taper to whimpers but she always raged. Jude knew it was because she was braver than the rest. She wanted freedom the most. Jude remembered timeouts in a small dark coat-closet. The light cord would swing above him in slow concentric circles but he would be too paralyzed to reach for it and only stared into the inky blackness, counting the seconds. Jude knew Gloria would reach for it.
Jude wrung out the mop, carefully placing it into his cleaning cart and counted the highlights on the glossy floor as he walked to the elevator. The second floor was a never-ending sequence of doors and tiles. On good days he’d imagine all the harsh fluorescents would dim into a rainbow of colors and the patients would gracefully waltz out of their cells bedecked in glorious white gowns and suits. They would dance in undulating patterns down the stretch of the corridor while the hospital workers would smile and applaud, happily ushering them into the sunlight. Jude knew that was just a fantasy. He knew it would be wrong to let them go.
When Jude started working at the hospital it was called St. Dympna’s Refuge For the Criminally Insane, a decade later it shortened to a gentle St. Dympna’s Institute but nothing else changed. Visitor’s were still an almost non-occurrence and the faces of the staff were always hard with contempt or taut with stress. The bright lights just deepened the gullies of their mouths and eyes. Jude often pondered on how lonely the patients must be with no one kind to speak to and no where to run to. That was why he started memorizing the shifts of the attendants, noting who had keys and where they went, charting the best ways to get as many out as possible, especially Gloria. Jude knew people would get hurt but he kept imagining being trapped in a tiny room with no windows and no chance of rescue and his resolve would strengthen.

Dialogue: The stripper and the warrior

C: “Is World of Warcraft really that interesting?”

M: “We all have our bad habits.”

C: “And what does that mean?”

M: (silence)

C: Stripping is not a bad habit! It’s a J-O-B that pays. And don’t you try and change the subject.”

M: “Didn’t say one word about it.”

C: “You never have to! You always give me LOOKS when I come home. You still haven’t introduced me to the rest of your family.”

M: “My mom likes you.”

C: “What about the REST of your family?”

M: “That’s all the family I’ve got, unless you’ve got something to tell me?”

C: “No, I just, I don’t see why you spend so much time and money on a stupid game. I’m right here”

M: “Look, when you’re on some pole, peelin’ clothes off, your name’s Candy and you’re just a hot girl twirling around while all the shmoes want to stick a dollar in your thong. I go online my name’s Monst3rSlay3r333 and me and my friends go and slay some monsters. Neither of us want to be Julianne and Jacob 24/7.”

C: “We’re never Julianne and Jacob anymore. We never go anywhere.”

M: “Christ Julie, you met me at a bookstore for Christ’s sake. I don’t like going out.”

C: “But I do, Jacob.”

M: “Fine, let’s go.”

C: “Oh?”

M: “Burger King is open, let’s go share some onion rings.”

C: “Really? And next week, we go to the park?”

M: “We’ll see.”

C: “Jay!”

M: “Park. Next Week. Got it.”

To: Every Guy I've Ever Crushed On Ever

Fuck you for being so freakin' attractive! Also I don't know you, I've probably rarely or completely not spoken to you, this is partly your appeal. But you must admit, you do it too. It'd be nice though if you grew some balls or some sense of adventure and spoke to me, after all, I know you're looking too, otherwise I wouldn't know the color of your eyes.

Yeah and fuck me for being so fucking shy.


Sincerely,
The Weird Chick

yeah, I can live like this

School has started again so I'm spending my days being anxious. Anxious about new people, classes, getting to sleep on time, waking up early enough, the commute, the homework, the cost of books and supplies, the loans, the choices...ANXIOUS. Luckily the internet is here to entertain and soothe the other areas of my brain.







mmmm SEDUCTION

p.s. started my intro to fiction class yesterday..prepare to be amazed...maybe?

Red Strings (Vampy Dialogues Series 02)

I'd like to present a small fiction writing exercise I did, read and enjoy;


I tried to breathe as the pain shot through me, which was a stupid thing to do really. Every particle of my being was torn apart and remade. I was the clay and the vampire blood was the sculptor. I went through spasm after spasm until finally everything stopped and for a few brief moments I felt at peace. Then the hunger struck me. The only thing I could think about was warm hot blood rushing past my lips. As I tried to focus and get up my senses all exploded. I could hear people talking downstairs - idle polite conversation - I could see the bumps and indentations of the paint on the ceiling above me. A faint smell of cigarettes came from an empty ashtray that sat on one of the end tables near the window. There was a girl somewhere outside the door of my room. She was there in the hallway waiting for something. I couldn’t make out what. I could practically taste her blood pulsing in her veins. I could hear her beating heart. My fangs lengthened and I swung my legs out of the hard uncomfortable hotel room bed.
Then my sire chose to speak, "Exhilarating isn't it?" True mortal consciousness rushed back to me and a thousand questions slipped through my head. I wanted to hate him but I don't think that it's really possible to hate one's sire. He was suddenly standing right in front of me with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slack and that same lazy smile plastered on his face. Damien wore jeans with a red shirt that depicted various distorted images of eyes, lips, teeth, noses; a collage of the human face. I started wondering about silly stuff like whether Damien was his real name and what kind of vampire wore jeans but my mind was in too much chaos to put any of these ponderings into words. His smile widened and he cocked his head to the side. "You're wondering why, aren't you?" Yes, I was wondering why deep in the back of my mind but I was still more focused on the meal that waited just outside my door. It was so hard to focus. The pattern on the wallpaper suddenly caught my eye dizzying me with its pastel twists and turns and someone had turned on music downstairs. The heavy rock kind that went through each cell of your body no matter what volume you played it at. I started humming the tune as I got up, ignoring Damien, and walked straight into the hallway.
As I came closer to her I realized that her name was Eva. She sat Indian-style in the narrow hallway, her head facing the direction of the stairs. She was about seventeen with hair done up in a sloppy sort of bun at the back of her head. The girl wore a white sundress and smelled of peaches. In the dark hallway she looked glowingly angelic, it gave me pause for a moment, perhaps the human inside me decided that her life, her simple innocence, was something that should be spared, treasured even but the blood lust was getting stronger and I needed to feed.
The closer I got to her the clearer her mind became. She was waiting for her boyfriend, she was going to beg him to take her back, and she’d do anything. A sudden swell of pity and envy came over me. She believed she loved him and she was surrendering her pride for this love while I could barely utter the word in casual conversation.
Her neck was bare, open and inviting. In seconds I was upon her; on my knees, my hand over her mouth and my teeth in her neck. My whole being came alive as I drank and I felt a certain light headedness as the flow got sparser and slower. I stopped. She was dead. Somehow I didn't want to drink anymore.
"You should dispose of the body, ya know." He said matter of factly like he was warning me to check over my test before turning it in. It almost made me angry but I realized that this must be normal for him. How many people must he kill within a week? How many people am I going to have to kill just to survive? They were just after thoughts like thinking what outfit you were going to wear tomorrow. I was too calm. I should have been freaking out, screaming, crying, anything but I was calculating; mentally writing down all the questions that I had and occasionally getting distracted by my new senses.
I didn't want to dispose of the body. She looked more beautiful in her death, so still and peaceful, all anxiety gone from her body. I wanted her boyfriend to find the body, I wanted to see his reaction, I wanted to know why she fell in love with him. Everything seemed so much more beautiful; poetic and entrancing. I wondered who her parents were. Just as the thought flashed across my mind a mental picture of a professional looking woman with a navy blue suit and sleek burgundy framed glasses standing beside a cheerful and almost mischievous looking fellow possessing incredible ice blue eyes popped into my head. The picture was old and unclear; she hadn't seen her parents in a while. Were they dead? I couldn't tell.
Damien sighed and blew a dark strand of unruly hair from his face. "You know when you change someone their main focus is suppose to be their sire. A.K.A me. But somehow I get the feeling that you're not listening." For the first time I looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were flecked with orange set in gray. It was the most amazing thing! I just wanted to stare into those eyes until all the depth in them was gone. His black hair was messy and shone red. How old in all actuality was he? In retrospect he seemed alarmingly modern, ahead of this time even. It bugged me, so I asked.
"Well finally you're taking an interest in me." He smiled brilliantly. "I am exactly two-thousand eight hundred and eighty something years old. I go by decades" he explained.
"What's your real name?"
"For the life of me I can't remember....." He said while stretching. "I know it's written down somewhere and I recall I never really like it in the first place. My favorite color is red though, and I like swings."
When I first met him he immediately struck me as laidback and I was attracted to his blasé nature but now he seemed like a buffoon. "You don't look old." It was apparently infectious.
"Well eternity would really suck if you came out looking like Bram's Dracula after a couple hundred years. As far as I know we don't age but sometimes we literally die of boredom." He played with a little plastic cow keychain that he pulled out of his pocket. Damien was one of those people that had trouble sitting still for more than a couple of minutes. "My last blood spawn, whose name was Keiko by the way, had this enormous collection of dolls that she made clothes for and painted and all. After a while it kinda creeped me out but I bet in this day and age she could've been a great fashion designer. My point is that she had something to occupy herself with for at least two hundred years, ya know? It probably increased her life span by millennia."
"You're saying that I should go get some dolls?" I deadpanned.
"Well...no, maybe...... Look my point is, is that after you get bored with this world you start to dawdle and be unproductive and then eventually go insane. And when vampires go insane they lose their sense of logic so you might wake up one day and go sunbathing, ya know what I mean?"

How Edward Ruined Vampires (Vampy Dialogues Series 01)

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the end of the vampire. You may remember when these creatures of the night were objects of terror, ruthless, intelligent, predators that were cursed with vestiges of humanity while simultaneously obliged to be amoral in order to survive. You may have associated them with dangerous taboo sexuality and the price one must pay for immortality and power. Scenes like Lestat and Louis simultaneous draining a barmaid, leaving two gold coins next to her corpse and then casually walking off may even spring to mind.

Not anymore right?

Now, it's Edward Cullen and his awkward lust for a teenage girl, he's vampvegan, he sparkles and can most often be found stalking (Edwards Diary: 12:14pm: bella is having lunch at the school cafeteria, she's so cute when she chews! <3).

So what gives? The sad truth is simply that Edward is more marketable than Lestat (and his brand of vampire). Although sexy in his own right, Lestat kills, often and with pleasure, he has love affairs (plural!) both hetero and homosexual, he subverts authority and in general does icky things (The Tale of the Body Thief opens with Lestat tenderly sucking a grandmotherly woman dry and in Memnoch The Devil he goes on for pages about how yummy menstrual blood is). Edward on the other-hand only strives to "protect" Bella while still being an ultra cool, achingly beautiful, superhuman with sparkles. Therefore Edward is easy to sell as a 'bad boy' romantic icon to tweens and above. The insidious thing about Edward is that he takes on all the trappings of subculture edge without any of the exploration or thought. Lestat tests readers limits and forces them to look in on the darker sides of humanity's desires for fame and bloodlust while Edward is another player in reinforcing traditional gender roles. [Those being guy is Protector, girl is Nurturer, etc.]

Yes, it pisses me off when people assume that I like "Twilight" when they figure out I like vampires, but what's sadder is that so many are willing to buy into a series that's so badly written and essentially shallow.

Some Links

The Vampire Lestat (Satan's Night Out) - Redeemer (It was a terrible movie but at least it made good music videos)

The Wisdom of Crocodiles & Interview with the Vampire - vampire movies done right

Buffy vs. Edward Remix

Harry Potter vs. Twilight (takes itself a tad bit too seriously but offers insightful perspectives on both books)

Last but not least Look For Me By Moonlightt - my first vampire novel which I read in 3rd grade yet still far smarter and better written than Twilight.

Enjoy

can't quite think today

My brain is concerned about the health care reform, is contemplating the moral and emotional issues of assisted suicide and is mulling over George Orwell's essay "Politics and the English Language" but really my heart isn't in it.

Like a sad emo kid on a swing my heart's just listening to my "Bittersweet" playlist.
......I wish I could just be sure of something, anything.

Death Food/how to avoid congealing into a blob

I went on a bike trail for a couple of hours today and it was glorious, my friend and I talked about horror movies while peddling to the botanical gardens. Going downhill at breakneck speed and endless road ahead reminded me how utterly sweet life could be. Of course, I hadn't seen sunlight for two days so maybe it was the fresh oxygen that was so exhilerating?

Contrary to logic, summer means less physical activity for me and more Death Food. When I live on my own I get to choose what I eat; fruit, substitute meat products (because I fear cooking meat), real tomatoes, any asian food I can afford and lots of cheese. I don't buy many sweets because I can't afford it and the staple of my diet is whole wheat bread, because it is nutty and delicious. During the summer I mostly live with my parents and get to not pay for food (yay!) but eat mostly hotdogs, potato salad, chicken wings, a variety of dipping sauces and muffins. Obviously the latter are not the sort of nutritionary choices that allow you to live past your twenties and still be able to walk up a flight of stairs.

Hence these handy food links that may make the difference between fun bikeride and slow painful excercise;

>unhealthiest drinks in america, Monster is on this with 2,000 calories, summary: drink plain coffee instead

>the truth about diet soda, yes real soda is an evil concoction of death, sugar and heart attack..so is diet

>ways you can still eat at the good fastfood joints (better menu options and a list of what to avoid)

>the best food for better sex, just for fun, but all of these sound pretty delicious anyway ;)

>and cheese, because life is better with cheese.

The Post-Modern Veil & The Less Skin I Show

I came across an interview with Nawal Zaynab El* an Egyptian feminist and critic of Islam, I was instantly charmed by her passion for writing and upheaval of the status quo and am quaking to read 'God Dies by the Nile' but I was also introduced to the concept of make-up as the post-modern veil. Nawal Zaynab El states

"The girls are veiled under social pressure; they are unaware of the pressure. Like women who put on makeup—the post-modern veil. I am against makeup, and I am against showing the breast. Nakedness and veiling are two faces of the same coin."

Now I am only feminist in the sense that I think women and men are totally and absolutely equal in ALL THINGS. I think gender exists but I think we can choose both or neither in the way that we choose our clothing but this struck a definitive chord in me. She also states further

"And that’s why I do not like parties. Women are half-naked, you know. It’s the fashion now. Women show their breasts. I am not against nakedness if everyone is naked, men and women. But men in the gala were in black tie, with the black suit, always covered. They don’t show their breasts."

Make-up used to be an aesthetic statement for me. As opposed to a method to increase my attractiveness or to hide my imperfections it was a way to complete whatever style I was trying to achieve (usually living-dead with an elegant 1001 Nights twist). These couple of years however it's turned into the former. I worry about how young or plain or just ethnic I look without it. For most women make-up is very much just an avenue to look more attractive to their male and female peers alike. On the surface there is nothing wrong with this. Everyone wants to be more attractive and will strive to be so if possible. However there is the under-current of 'however you are naturally isn't good enough' there's also the festering layer of comparison of wanting to be better than someone else.
On the other hand, a good dash of foundation and some eyeliner can make someone a million times more confident or more at ease with herself or himself (because lets face it "feminine anything" is now not an issue just for females). I can't quite form a solid opinion on this issue, I've gone through all three make-up phases;

-make-up for style; fun but exhausting, after a while the effort grows borring
-no make-up; easy and liberating at first but then I found that it encouraged me to be not only slovenly all day but also increased my anti-socialness. Felt less confident and less compelled to make an effort.
-make-up for beauty; made me more confident at first but now more high maintenance and hyper-aware of my flaws. When I don't get a chance to put it on I feel ugly rather than just slovenly.

The latter quote is also interesting but I view it a different light than most. I think men wear what they wear because they feel that no one wants to see them show off their body parts, that in the end it endangers their masculinity. In fact it is hard to picture a man looking appealing in an off the shoulder top but I for one love the way bare shoulders look on both men and women. Perhaps fashion should adopt the same attitude toward sexualizing men as it does toward women? In so many ways it already has, just check out david Beckham's new 60 ft Armani ad http://www.celebridiot.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/david_beckham_armani_launch_san_francisco_main.jpg or note the skinny jeans and tight everything that many alternative subcultures have taken a shine to.

In the meanwhile although I think sexualization isn't necessarily a bad thing I'm going to try covering up more even though it's summer. How does showing less skin feel I wonder?

*Although the article lists her name as Nawal El Saadawi she states that she has taken up calling herseld by her mother's name Nawal Zaynab El. http://www.doublex.com/section/arts/islam%E2%80%99s-bluntest-critic

The boy sat opposite of the girl. In the bright sunlight his pale skin was luminescent, he theorized and gesticulated with his hands about Soulmates and Love while his eyes remained dull and grey. She did not glow. Her copper skin was shaded by the patio roof and while his form was taut and straight she curled in on herself, arms encircling bare legs while her chin rested on her knees. The heat would have been stifling if not for the occasional cool breeze and yet they sat close enough so that her toes left red imprints on the tops of his thighs. He paused, waiting for a response.

"You wouldn't know if soulmates or love exist anyway, until you were old and on your deathbed looking back at your entire life." She said ominously but his eyes warmed knowing that she always made statements of things she hoped weren't true.

Foggy Brain

I'm trying really hard to keep myself from slipping into old routines, old thought patterns of submission and inadequacy. There's only so much that one person can take, only so much that they can do for another and likewise the other cannot be expected to constantly be happy, and to feel affinity every second of the day.

I know there are no rules or defaults for love and romance, everyone has to make it up as they go along. It's just sometimes it's hard to think and easy to be scared when my heart is beating way too fast. I want to think 'this isn't how things are supposed to happen' but he and I aren't players on a game-board with set steps and click-lock mechanical brains. At the same time I feel like I'm dancing on the edge of an abyss I've worked my entire life to climb out of.

The Rape Fantasy

Being pinned against the wall by a potential lover and then forcefully taken to the heights of sexual pleasure is a common masturbatory fantasy cliché that can quickly evolve into a less accepted rape fantasy. A rape fantasy is based on non-consent and protest; a scenario in which there are two plays of power and two separate desires. What is classified as a rape fantasy varies from mild hesitation befitting a bodice ripper to a darker more violent act in which the “victim” is unwilling, hurt and humiliated. Both sexes are known to fantasize about being on either the receiving or giving end of a rape scenario. The reasons behind rape fantasies are contested in many intellectual arenas. Social conditioning, a disregard for or shedding of human rights, sadomasochism, vanity, wish fulfillment, pathological disorders, and perversion are all presented as basis behind what makes rape sexually arousing. Despite all this supposition scientific studies are often left inconclusive partly because of a general unwillingness to admit to such fantasies and also a fear that publishing found data would encourage the actual crime. An admission to arousal from a rape fantasy carries social stigma for both sexes.
In “Deficiency Theory” Freud is quoted as saying “A happy person never fantasizes, only a dissatisfied one.” In that light a rape fantasy where one is imagining themselves to be in the role of power suggests a need for sexual fulfillment and dominance. However, there seems to be an abundant amount of evidence that a healthy sex life is dependent upon a vivid fantasy life. (Doskoch, “The Safest Sex”) The point of satisfaction that comes from exercising sexual power over a ‘victim’ is extremely subjective. For instance, when a man imagines himself to be one of five men raping a woman in order to achieve orgasm many suppositions can be drawn about his psyche but none can be certain or proven to exist in any other man that shares such a fantasy. Power plays an important role in rape fantasy but so does identity. The choice of being an anonymous perpetrator (such as one in five men) or a prime virile figure in the scenario and the implications of this choice depends on how the fantasist wants to feel and what fears he or she may want to alleviate. If a man’s libido is dampened by performance anxiety then the conjecture can be made that being one of five men would be a relief because he can obtain satisfaction from the victim without close scrutiny of his sexual performance or one can surmise that the man enjoys treating a woman as an object that is used, passed on and discarded. On the other hand, if playing a powerful singular role the man or woman is able to exert power and take control of the victim and his or her situation one can come to the conclusion that the fantasist only feels comfortable when he or she has full command or the fantasist seeks to subvert the personhood of their partner and disregards their partners right to deny sex. The lack of comprehensive knowledge of a person’s motivations and thoughts renders deeper meaning gleaned from a fantasy unreliable.
A common trope in the imagining of this act is that the victim protests at first but then grows to enjoy it. From the dominant point of view this can be an attestation of sexual prowess while still enabling the distribution of pleasure to be solely in the hands of the fantasist. There is no question of who is carrying out their desires but also no pressure of meeting the victim’s wants. This does not necessarily imply that the fantasist derives pleasure from the pain or humiliation of the victim but merely enjoys the enacting of absolute power. This can be brought back to vanity, the idea of being able to make someone desire sex solely through physical means is flattering and arousing but the pretext behind the fantasy remains conjecture and cannot be translated into a need to carry out non-consensual sex in reality.
The idea that wish-fulfillment is behind rape fantasies is one of the main deterrents of their cultural acknowledgement. Because rape is such a serious and damaging crime admitting to arousal from it is seen as obscene and unnatural. Also, some take issue with publishing material that states women in particular have rape fantasies that put them in the role of the victim because it propagates the thought that they want to be raped in reality. It is unwise to take the rape fantasy out of the context of the unreal. People fantasize about strangers, co-workers, and others that are part of their daily life but would most likely never act and more importantly never desire to act upon these fantasies.
A common assumption placed upon those who are aroused by imagining themselves in the victim’s role of a rape fantasy is that they experienced abuse in their lives or have some sort of self-hate that has forced them to associate violence and dehumanization with sexual satisfaction. This is also a dangerous blanket statement that functions as a way to label ‘abnormal’ sexual desires as having roots in pathological disorders. It can be surmised by a less grave observer that the lack of control and the concept of inciting such passion in a lover that they cannot resist forcing the victim to submit to their advances is arousing in itself. Some also theorize that people who have suffered sexual abuse in the past use the rape fantasy as a way of taking control and softening the situation for themselves. However studies show that women who have been raped report no greater frequency of rape fantasies than women who haven’t. (The Journal of Sex Research) Women, specifically, are said to be socially conditioned to desire rape in order to submit themselves to a dominant male. This assumption is also arguably true and false. The influences and pressures of an individual’s life are impossible to measure therefore there is no validity to forming a conclusion behind a fantasy, especially one that has so many facets and components. Because it is so difficult to gather empirical evidence about a subject that not only is steeped in pre-conceived cultural thought but also mostly exists within a person’s mind-space (with the exceptions of those who act out the fantasies in role-play with a partner(s)) drawing solid or “scientific” conclusions is arbitrary at best.
Other theories debunk rape as a fantasy at all; since the fantasist is in full control and is in fact doing it for his or her own sexual arousal it cannot be non-consensual. This could be a valid way of looking at rape fantasies in terms of gauging their relevance to everyday life but it may disregard the more aversive fantasies where the rapist is unattractive and violent. In such a scenario it would be more helpful to think about the separation of romantic connection and sex. After a particularly bad break up or even a bad series of dating experiences it might be difficult to fantasize about being satisfied from sex with someone they have a connection with. For instance, even if the perfect mate were imagined thoughts of how the relationship could go wrong or even annoying habits would involuntarily pop up. Taking the potential for romantic connection out of the fantasy might allow the fantasist to better focus on the sexual/sensual aspects of the fantasy, the added violence helps to further disconnect any real world relevance from the sex act since in reality it would be unfavorable to want to connect to someone who causes you injury or conversely someone who’s received injury from the fantasist. These aspects qualify the fantasy as a rape fantasy because the sex featured is non-consensual however the line remains where even if a fantasist finds anonymous and/or violent sex arousing it doesn’t necessarily translate into a real life desire.
A common theme in studies and articles is to question why women specifically have rape fantasies as if disregarding that men have them or seeing their rape fantasies as less significant than those women have. They also tend to primarily look at women in the role of the victim in a rape fantasy rather than the one taking control. This is revealing of the sort of bias that makes it difficult to take rape fantasy theories and research seriously. Vanity and blame avoidance are fantasy motives that cannot be segregated to one gender and to view the rape fantasy in a singular facet that consists of only a woman imagining herself to be the victim limits real understanding of the phenomenon.
I don’t believe it is presumptuous to say that both women and men fantasize as being the victim in a rape scenario and conversely both sexes also place themselves in the dominant role. Just as the BDSM community is diverse and varied in who participates and what they participate in, there must be an acknowledgement of an even wider diversity in terms of fantasy life. Despite the uncertain commonality of rape fantasies in terms of statistics there is plenty of pornographic material available that suggests a market for such scenarios. To find the reason behind the appeal of the rape fantasy however a far more universal approach must be taken and perhaps a scale needs to be devised on the level of brutality a rape fantasy features because the differentiating brutality and aversive aspects of a rape fantasy yield different motivations. At the same time we must be careful not to take inferences and conjecture and turn them into pathological truths. Acknowledging that a rape fantasy can only have significance on an individual basis protects a person with such a fantasy from judgment and stereotyping. To say that to have a certain fantasy implies a definitive insight into a person is not only frightening to the person admitting to the fantasy but a callous way of addressing a sex related issue. In my opinion because a rape fantasy can be an outlet for such a wide variety of sexual satisfaction hindrances (even blame avoidance) it should be embraced in a positive light unless the fantasist is experience disturbance due to the fantasy. Most likely it’s not a big deal and people need to be informed in a way that conveys this.

You and your liquor can shut the fuck up.

You know what? Fuck Eloquence!

STOP DRINKING! All of you! Stop drugging and boozing till' you're sick, and pretending that this shit doesn't fuck you up! It does. It did. It will again. If you're going to be fun, take risks, make sure you remember it the next morning. Take fucking responsibility for your actions instead of hiding behind a thin veneer of inebriation. It's not ok.

And all of you beer drinkers. CALORIES and just ewwww.

End of transmission.

Leave me to my cards

The difference between actual biblical and/or religious belief and my dabbling with astrology or cartomancy is that although a person can be aware that these practices based in superstition and psychological play do not have certain effect on reality those who believe in the bible take it's word for absolute truth. I am not going to fight a war based on my horoscope, likewise I am able to make my own decisions about important choices in my life. Although checking my horoscope or asking tarot cards reassures my very human fears of a loss of control I am still aware on a base level that only I can decide how to lead my life. Religion also gives people that comforting sense of having control (by praying or other rituals) however, especially monotheistic religions, do not leave room for disputation or an over all sense of doubt in the methods.
A horoscope can provide insight or draw attention to issues that may have been buried before (when your natal chart tells you you're impatient, even if its inaccurate you still debate whether you are or are not impatient). Religious creed on the other hand requires a sense of righteousness, you must believe in your god and that your god is leading you on the right path. In other words on a lot of levels you must believe that other peoples views are wrong. This is not an absolute truth of course, but it is practically impossible to avoid.
Acknowledging this it always irks me when people ask, usually in a ridiculousy incredulous tone, "How can you be aethiest and stil believe in all this horscope bullshit??". Spirituality/superstion is not the same thing as religion and equating the two is much like comparing a cold with cancer.

If It's Forbidden It Obviously Doesn't Happen

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The article Teen Sex: Should You Allow Sleepovers? discusses whether it is wise to allow a teenager to have a sleepover with the opposite sex. The tone of the article suggests that parents should feel totally comfortable fooling themselves into thinking that by not allowing sanctioned privacy for sex to their teenagers that they will be able to prevent their teenagers from having sex. There is small emphasis on the great need for parents to present sexual intercourse in the light of medical and personal safety. As parents are told that they need to educate their teen about safe sex as early as possible they are also prompted to bring Love into the conversation. This confuses the issue rather than helps teens make sound sexual choices. During teen years it is very difficult to be able to tell lust from love, even older experienced adults sometimes have problems differentiating the two sentiments but instead of emphasizing the issue of consent and personal readiness parents and educators often tell teens that their first time should be with someone they love. “Professor Tanya Byron, psychologist and times2 columnist, says that no 14-year-old she has met is emotionally or psychologically mature enough to understand the implications of sex in the longer term.” Ms Byron would be even harder pressed to find a 14-year-old who has full understanding of what a “loving committed relationship” entails. More to the point, a twenty or even thirty-year-old who has not had adequate relationship experience as well as sexual experience will not have the mental resources to understand the emotional and psychological implications of sex in the longer term. Sexual readiness isn’t a question of age. The best that parents can do to determine whether their teen is ready to start having sex is whether the teen is able to practice sex safely and make independent decisions. Without the benefit of hindsight and adequate reflection of an individuals experiences one can never fully understand how any sort of intimate relationships affect us. To assume that at age sixteen or even eighteen a teen is more ready to start having sex than at fourteen is arbitrary at best and to further assume that by not allowing a teen to have sleepovers (or a measure of privacy in their own home) a parent can somehow deter their child from having sex too early is illogical. The ending quote of this article is by Honor Rhodes who sternly tells parents “We really have to be prepared to be disliked, ….We are reluctant to say no and I really think we should. Children have lots of friends, and what they need from us are parents.” However what’s the point of putting up boundaries that teens will undoubtedly find a way around? A ready and willing teen couple will find a place to have sex whether their parents have sanctioned it or not, it just might not be as comfortable or safe as their bedroom. A more concerning parental blunder is perceiving yourself as being able to gauge whether your child is mature enough to have sex rather than respecting whatever decision he or she may make.


http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/families/article5834488.ece

Fever!!

"Life is better than death, I believe, if only because it is less boring, and because it has fresh peaches in it." »Alice Walker

Recently I've gotten the second and worst fever of my life accompanied with chills. I had escalated the temperature in my dorm room to 90 degrees and yet still felt like I was freezing. Being slightly delirious and a bit of a drama queen when left to stare at walls I naturally came to the conclusion I was dying. Instead of calling my mom or even my closest friends I texted my ex and informed him that I didn't regret the time I spent with him.

WTF?

Once my friend brought me fever and headache meds I had acquired some semblance of coherence and immediately regretted contacting him....... for a little while. He thanked me and told me to take care of myself. Maybe I should have felt patronized or even angry at being dismissed but he asked me whether he should worry and I told him no. I didn't know what I expected from him but even in my heat/cold induced haze I felt better.

Besides, my mom and my friends know I love them :) and peaches.

Social Exile Pt. 3

So it's been an entire 30 something days and I've decided to welcome myself back into the realm of talking to people. It's improved a lot of things. I've only truly cut out two people from my life and the rest that were hanging by a wire, just cleaned up their acts. I hope permanently. Either way I don't feel like I'm being taken for granted anymore and I've learned a nice zen balance to answering and not answering calls, texts, etc. In other words if I don't feel like it I won't do it and if I feel like turning off my phone then I'll do that too. Being available all the time is exhausting so I won't be. This all seems like common sense but it's easy to forget you can just shut things out and turn stuff off until two hours later and you've realized you've wasted all of the time you needed to relax.

Anywayz: experiment successful
Planning to repeat: maybe
Lesson: telling people to fuck off is A-OKAY :D

Social Exile Pt. 2

So the social exile was a really really good idea. My interaction with one of my close friends whom I tried to isolate myself from tonight has proven that loudly and clearly. In the span of three hours she almost completely usurped all of the progress that I've made in the past two weeks in getting my life back in order (I've made much progress but more on that later).

I need to cut these people out. There's a point when you have to start thinking about your own well being. This is that long overdue point for me.

More on all of this later, since right now I have to stay up late and finish tons of homework that I could have completed by now had I not been forced to justify my life choices over the phone to someone who had no right to question them in the first place.

Social Exile

On January the 19th I decided to disconnect myself from the social world. I turned off my phone, deleted my facebook and stopped opening Adium (my awesome IM app w/ a purple duck). My livejournal and blog stayed online because I used them to express myself rather than socialize. Immediately afterwards I felt a sense of serenity and focus. The isolation made me feel less jittery, more confident and way more productive. Suddenly I was churning out paintings and poetry, taking care of my finances, excercising and tutoring my younger brother.

This lasted until the 22nd when I turned on my phone and realized one of my best friends had called me. I called her back and we hung out and yet none of the traits that manifested themselves from the self-imposed social exile had left me. In fact after my 24 hr outing with her I felt even more energized and happy. So what was the problem? I realized that most of my close friendships are toxic. I only have two real friends that support me and care for my work and well being without trying to compete with me or bring me down. Ouch. I'm actively ignoring eight people who I identified as being the source of terrible negativity in my life. I'm still in contact with new/fringe friends (I had an evening out with an old acquaintace of mine and it was wonderful) and I guess eventually I'll reactivate my facebook and start answering my phone consistently but for now I'm gonna go the loner route and try to reassurt my sense of self.

The most important thing; This feels good.

Eat your veggies!

mmm....dinner at 1 am. So I've completely given up on having any semblance of regular sleep patterns. My family abhors this and claim that my late hours will garner a variety of illnesses such as cancer, insanity, stupidity and weight gain. However many things I've read that actually support their absurd sounding prophecies I've come to terms with the fact that I am just nocturnal. It's quieter. On that point I will soon be a fitter, healthier, me. I also hope that my recent weight loss has been due to my Wii rather than my muscles atrophying because of the sedation brought on by winter break.

In other news, I now have a livejournal, blog and an up and coming artist website. W00t! for being uber productive and not sitting on my ass and ONLY reading Harry Potter fanfics.

Ooops It's a Girl

When I was younger I thought like this; "Since I'm a girl I am expected to do X, Y, and Z. And act like so, so, and so. (my russian grandmother would always say "a girl shouldn't act like that..") Therefore, I should do my best to not do X, Y, Z and screw with so, so, and so." This was obviously counter-productive since although I wasn't conforming to what people told me I should be I also wasn't truely listening to what I wanted to do; rather only choosing the opposite of girl which isn't that great either.

So then I hit high school and I realize "Bloodyfuckinghell!! I like make-up and pretty things and romance BLAARGH!!!" (I was slightly vindicated by the fact that the guys around me liked those things too) I think I spent a lot of time wondering whether evil government operatives slipped something into the water to make me act so disgustingly *girlsh*. WORSE I had found a lot of literature saying I was genetically pre-disposed toward acting a certain way because I had female genitalia. I was doomed. Behind all of the 'women are just more empathetic and men are just more independent and agressive' I read 'just go and start planning your family NOW'. On the flip-side of that men were painted as emotionally-challenged sex starved pigs. That didn't seem right to me; Everyone wants sex, a lot, not just men.

So I pushed passed that and I came upon a whole bunch of other information disputing the whole mars and venus claim. By that time I was sick of questioning myself and thought "why the fuck are we still trying to write off our random virtues and faults on whether we have an innie or an outie?" MENTAL ANDROGYNY BABY!

So why do I feel ashamed and sordid when I expect a guy to pay for dinner, or am impressed by his ability to open pickle jars or long for him to protect me in someway? Femminism has taught me that I should take the reigns and never be dependent on my boyfriend/husband/father. But I shouldn't feel ashamed, I'm just not a very dominant person and I happen to be a woman. I hope the men in my life depend and rely on me too and nothing is taken for granted on either side because there's nothing we're supposed to do.

In light of this here's some interesting reading from Slate:

The Sex Difference Evangelists


AND

Divorce is Good For Women

First

Prepare to be smitten.

Or Not.

I'm new. Super New. Don't even know what to write in my first entry new. Be Gentle.

Or not.