sigelphoenix

I just finished reading Ariel Levy's Female Chauvinist Pigs. There was a lot of good in it - and some bad - and I'll share some of it when I get the chance.

In the meantime, I wanted to say: I'm depressed.

I'm depressed at the way sex and feminism have met in an ugly train wreck of a collision, such that it seems inevitable that one or the other gets twisted and mutilated when we deal with the two issues together. I don't know exactly why this has happened - whether it's the fault of the feminist in-fighting of the "sex wars" of the 1980s, or the manipulation by conservative pundits, or the simple fact that sex is really personal and complicated and scary - and so is feminism, so what chance do you have at putting the two together?

I've seen both sides of the "sex wars." I've seen the self-proclaimed sex-positive feminists, and their counterparts (for whom I haven't been able to find a label that is widely agreed upon, except maybe anti-porn). I really don't think the two are as far apart as they might seem. But I haven't been satisfied by either one on its own.

And thus, I've decided to get a little pretentious.

( A personal manifesto on sex and feminism )

I donated blood for the second time this morning. All in all, things went better than the first time - I knew to stay hydrated, so I felt a lot better afterward. Plus, it only took me twenty minutes to fill my bag o' blood, instead of forty-five. (The technician who helped me said she had a guy who did it in four minutes. O_o)

On the downside, a bit of blood dripped on my pants. It's the law of my khaki pants - whenever I wear them, I spill something on them. It's just usually food instead of, you know, bodily fluid. But this time it wasn't even my fault! The technician did it when she was filling sample tubes or something.

This afternoon I had a job interview (a paid position with C.O.R.E. that I applied to back during Spring Quarter). I actually found out just a little while ago that I didn't get the position, but oh well. I feel like I gave it a good shot, and at least I only wanted (rather than needed) the job.

However! The brilliant being that I am, when I got up after the interview was over, I somehow managed to slam my wrist against the table, crushing my watch into my skin. (I think I deserve extra points for not betraying my pain, or shouting an obscenity as I left the room.) It swelled up instantly into a lovely purple-red bruise about the size of a kidney bean, causing kyonkun to exclaim, "Holy emo, what did you do to yourself?"

I R TEH SMRT.

And, randomly: full-length mirrors are TEH AWESOME. I have one right in my room, on the door to my closet, and it's infinitely helpful when I'm drawing. I can just go over and do some (probably silly-looking) posing and contorting in front of the mirror, sketch it there, and then hop back to my desk to fill it in. Win!