I realize a middle class white girl talking about privilege can go really, really wrong. I’m hoping that isn’t the case here. Quite frankly, I’m terrified of making an ass of myself. Which is why I’ve said nothing for a long time. Which is actually (heh) pretty privileged of me. I can afford to sit … [Read more…]
I would like to share a story from my college days. Relevant to the recent discussions of rape culture. (This shouldn’t be particularly triggery). I’m hanging out with a group of friends at West Dorm, across the street from mine. It’s an engineering school, and the ratio is something like 4/1 male to female. So, … [Read more…]
Back to Tortuga. Jim and I are renting the front unit on one of the buildings, which is pretty much perfect. No yard for Ragnar, but he likes playing fetch in the courtyard, and it’s a great walking neighborhood. Funny. This is the third time I’ve moved to Tortuga. Both prior times lasted six months. … [Read more…]
I’ve been working at this place since October. I moved to this place. In large part because of this:Ragnar and The New Backyard. I’ve become obsessed with setting up my place. Which means that Apartment Therapy has become my porn. We’ve been doing a narrative sprint at work for the last week… two weeks? Time … [Read more…]
Came back to my desk to find this blinking away on my IM window: S: I have a clothing question for you if you have a sex S: sec S: damn freud I love my friends.
Apparently there is this erotica novel, 50 Shades of Grey, that’s causing a kerfluffle. I have nothing to say about that. Haven’t read it, not sure if I will. But then I read this article, and really, I have to rant. Let me share with you the section that provoked my ire: Amy Robach for … [Read more…]
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow’s springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
– Gerard Manley Hopkins
It’s been a hard year. A hard few years. Mom’s cancer, Jay’s cancer