So I owe this to Jerz from last week

Well, Merry Christmas everyone!

I hope everyone had a good morning and got all kinds of wonderful things. I know I did. My entire kit for culinary school is almost put together just from this morning!

Things have been pretty quiet here. I've been working with my dad and getting ready to move, which is going to happen sometime in February or March.
Today we're continuing our family tradition of going to see a movie together. We started it ages ago, when Lord of the Rings was coming out, and now it's a thing. We're going to see True Grit, which looks interesting if only because Matt Damon, Josh Brolin and Jeff Bridges all look like twins in the previews.

Merry Christmas! I hope you all have a wonderful day with family and get to eat delicious food and be happy.

Big Decisions

So.
I know I scared people with my culinary school declaration.

Unfortunately, it's true.

I'm moving to Seattle, sometime in the next few months, to start culinary school in April.

I love you all very much and I'm going to try to visit Rochester before I leave, but I'm honestly not sure I'll be able to.


In other news, because I'm going to Seattle and I'm kind of sick of flying, I think I'm going to take the train across the country!
Does that sound awesome or what?

Jersey and I have a deal

And that deal is that I will post every time he does for the next month.

So, posting.

Things are quiet here. It's Maine, after all.
I'm working on my application to the Art Institutes, and I have a phone interview tomorrow, so we'll see. Maybe I'll be in school again soon! Of course, I'm applying to Seattle or Raleigh-Durham....
SORRY GUYS

I'm also working on a design for my first tattoo! Now that I don't have to worry about it, I think I'm definitely going to get one. I've got some sketches goings, most of them art nouveau inspired. It's an interesting experience and definitely letting me get creative, which is really nice.

So, I'm gonna go reply to about a million messages and go to sleep.

No being mad about me possibly being far away. I miss you all terribly and I will continue to do so.

Take some time out to relax this week. Just 10 minutes or something, no computer, just relaxing and not worrying about things. Try it!

Who has two thumbs and needs to post more often?





This chick.

Working on it guys.

Sex and Feminism

So there have been a lot of posts floating around lately touching on the concept of feminism and sex. Here's one, here's another, and here's yet another.
Now, most of you know me fairly well. I've had my share of guys and I've also had my share of feminism, so I feel like I can reliably comment on both here.

Feminism, although seen by some as a collection of crazy man hating lesbians, is really just a movement of people out for equality. As one man said on Jezebel, it's all about egalitarianism. It's not that women specifically should earn more, it's that every single person should earn the same for the same work. It's that everyone should gain pleasure from sex, and everyone should have the same rights. Gay, trans, male, female, whatever. It doesn't matter. In the end, we all love whomever we love and it really shouldn't affect anyone else.

So... feminism and sex.
They do exist together. Not all feminists abstain, and they aren't all lesbians either, so don't think this is going to be some diatribe on how sex is all about objectifying women.

Sex really should be all about pleasure. (Unless you're trying to make babies. More power to you if that's the case, but it's not what I focus on. Babies are stressful.) This means that both parties, be they men, women, or other, should gain approximately equal amounts of enjoyment from whatever they choose to do together. However, I know male/female relationships best, because that is my cup of tea. Adapt as needed.

Feminism is not saying that the woman always has to get off, even if the man doesn't.
It is also not saying that the woman can't choose a BDSM/S&M relationship if that is what works for her.
It is not choosing a position in which the female has control

Feminism is consenting partners having a good time together.
It is women having a good time, hopefully above the national average.
It is women, and men, going just that one step further to see what might happen.
It is women enjoying sex if they want to without being called sluts. (Although I will admit it's slightly different when you're friends call you a slag, but in the same text say they are proud and jealous.)

Enjoying sex is not an inherently anti-feminist prerogative. You can be a sex-worker and still be a feminist. You can enjoy domination and still be a feminist. You can also wait for marriage and still be a feminist.

The entire point is that it is up to you to choose what you want to do.

Making Birthday Cakes

So yeah, I made a birthday cake.

And the birthday girl (that's her at the end) was really happy.

Although, she is only two, and I think she was just excited because A) 'cheese' is her new favorite word and she shrieks a little every time her dad says it and B) she got chocolate cake and C) it's her unbirthday party.

To top it all off, here is a very tired me leaving the house this morning after working on this cake for two days.



Worth it.

Even worth the 1am panic last night when I dropped one of the eyes and had to redo it and make sure (somehow) that it would dry in time for the party this afternoon.
Ask Jersey about my AIM freak out sometime.

It is approximately 2:05.

I just finished putting the writing on the cake I made (and designed!) for a friend's daughter's birthday.

I have re-piped the eyes, since I managed to drop them and shatter them.

I feel like hell and I'm going to sleep now.

Tomorrow there will be a better post with pictures showing the process of making this cake and such.

Of stress and friends and missing

Stress -
While the adrenaline running through my system right now would beg to differ, I am not usually a stressed sort of person. This week, however, besides being sick, missing hours of work, and doing three applications at once, I am also dealing with a ridiculous landlady who just will not see reason. And thus, I am stressed. And I just sent her an email, so at the moment I am shaking mildly and occasionally bursting out into giggles and finding it hard to type. However, I found an amazing way to calm down: discuss random fruits with a very good friend.

Friends -
At the same time physical distance is adding to emotional distance in some of my relationships, in others it is strengthening what could have been considered a tenuous relationship at the time I left RIT. That is something for which I am truly grateful. I am also getting to know people I thought I had left behind here, and I'm glad for that as well. There was this one kid in high school who dated my best friend for ages. We never really got along well, mostly because I had a crush on him before they dated and it was difficult for me to get over. Now though, we're great friends. He came back to visit this weekend, and even though I only got to see him for half an hour, it was the best half hour of my day. Well, besides when I was eating that passionfruit sorbet, which, by the way Molly, is vegan and you would LOVE.

Missing -
Learning who my true friends are has also redefined the sensation of missing. It is much less like the traditional missing as we know it in English, and much more like the Portuguese concept of saudade.
I had a friend from Portugal who wrote me the most amazing stories. He wrote this one about how I traveled to another planet and saved the world from war and was this amazing and wonderful human being, about the person he saw inside of me, which made me cry by the end. However the one that will always stick with me is Saudade, about a captain's wife left behind when her husband leaves for sea, and the longing she feels for him. Because saudade is not just missing, but constantly longing for either the future or a past experience which you know can never actually happen. It's this terrible longing for something that does not quite exist, and most likely never will.

I long. I yearn. I want things to be back the way they were, and I want to be with my friends. I know this isn't going to happen anytime soon, and I know that even when I come back to visit everything will be different, but at the same time I long for things to be the way they were.

Is there really anything to be scared of?
Only the night.
The kind in armor?
The kind that comes when day is done.

Books are cool

"If you go home with somebody, and they don't have books, don't fuck 'em!"
— John Waters


You, sir, are a genius.

On a related note, I have been reading both Eat, Pray, Love and the Scott Pilgrim books.
Scott Pilgrim is awesome, 'nuff said.

Eat, Pray, Love is surprisingly fantastic. I was expecting to read it and be totally over the hype and not like it, but I keep finding myself drawn in to it. The introspection is amazing and makes me feel a little less crazy and a little more normal.

Just a quick note

I have lots to update on and a lot of thoughts swirling around in my head, including a boy who wants to move up here and wants me to come visit him in Philadelphia and has gorgeous/strange blue/green eyes almost exactly like mine, but I am dead tired from a long week of work.

But thank you, especially Molly, to everyone who cheered me up this week. Everything got a lot better and I have a direction to pursue for pastry training and more than one interesting boy around and a lot more smiles than last week.

I love you all so many.

Horrible, Stupid, Silly, Dumb, Terrible... Crushes

As you may have guessed from the title of this entry, I am, at present, disenchanted with the romantic world. It's kind of a long story. Bear with me, because the punchline is fantastic in a terrible way that will make all of you laugh.

So Maine is boring. I believe we have covered this already. If not, here's the Uncyclopedia article on just how boring it is. There are also few boys in Maine during the non school months, and a lot of disgustingly happy couples.

I kind of had a boy. That fell through. Being 11 hours away sucks.

I then realized I still had ridiculous and entirely unjustified feelings for a certain boy who enjoys winter sports. Ridiculous because we already tried it, twice, and it didn't work either time. Unjustified because I was the one who destroyed it in the first place.

Now, I'm trying to get over those. My heart is slowly healing, coping with not only being 11 hours away from what's-his-face but also from all of my friends. This next bit does not help.

So, this weekend, one of my local friends brought some people home from his school to visit. Up until this year, my friendship with this friend was tentative. He's the ex of my former best friend, and we majorly clashed in high school. Now that we're beyond both of those points though, we are actually great friends and I am really grateful to have him in my life.

No. I know what you're thinking. I do not have a crush on him. Read on, dear friends.

So, his friends from school are mostly from other countries. Australia, Ireland, UK, Austria... the list is nearly endless. And they're all awesome. My friend suggested that I should get together with the Aussie, Sam. Well, eh. Sam's kind of a jock, and not really my type, but it was an interesting suggestion.

Then, I met Irish Boy. He's Irish. And FANTASTIC. And completely my type, and funny, and down to earth, and has a great grasp on international issues. He loves good food (except black pudding, yuck) and wants me to come visit all the time this fall because, and I quote, I'm his "new bestie".
Oh, and the accent.

His name is Mark. Actually, it's more than that, but that's what he goes by.

And I now have a ridiculous, horrible , painful crush.

Why am I using these words to describe it to you all? Why did I say the punch line was going to be great? Why am I even daring to write about it on this blog, out in public, where he might find it at any time?



Because Mark is gay.

I have no problem with this whatsoever, except that it means when I come to visit and stay with him, I will be staying in the spare room, and there will never be sweet nothings whispered into my ear in a glorious and lovely accent.

Damn.

Best College Memory

So the question was brought up over at The Frisky today of what readers' favorite college moments were. As an avid reader and commenter, I chimed in with this:

My freshman year, before I was actually technically a student (I was in a pre-freshman summer research program), was one of the best times of my entire life, not just college. I spent 4 weeks with a bunch of other kids my age, and because the program we were in was pretty exclusive it was pretty much just us, on one floor, for that entire time, and we totally went crazy.
My favorite memory was just a few days after we all got there. Our RA and some of her friends decided we should all go have a snowball fight, in the middle of July. Our ice rink would leave all the remains from cleaning outside, and because there was such a large pile it never melted, even in the ninety-something degrees it was then. We all got completely soaked and bruised from the half ice balls being thrown, but that was the day I really became friends with some of my best friends, and it remained one of those legendary things that we all talk about to this day.

And you know what?

That was one of the best days ever.
Do you remember how much fun that was?

Also, it's depressing how many of us are leaving/have left already. Someone major needs to get married or something so we can all have an excuse to get back together. :P

Heh, hi.

So I really do mean to update this more, but the last few weeks have been super stressful. Right after my surgery, I came down with strep from the hospital, so I had to postpone my trip to Rah-cha-cha until I could get out of bed. So then last weekend I did a bomb run to clean everything up and get all my stuff out, and on the way back our tire blew up.
Yeah, blew up.
About 4:30 in the morning, rural Mass, and boom. Most petrifying experience of my life.
Anyway, I really do need to update this more even if it's just a few words every now and then, especially since it's how I'm going to keep in touch with people and Catherine reads it. (Hi Catherine!) That is obviously the most important part, since we all know Catherine is my hero.

So, in honor of Love Yourself wee over at The Frisky (which was actually a few weeks ago but I am just getting around to now), I am going to take a page from their book. All of their editors wrote a list of 30 things they love about themselves or 30 things they do well, and I figured I might as well do the same.

So, here, for your perusal, 30 things I do well:

1. I make wicked Whoopie Pies, deah.

2. I'm really good at doing nothing on the internet for a long time.

3. I tend to start a lot of sentences with the word "so", and I also tend to accidentally capitalize it, which gives it a strange emphasis actually concurrent with my grammatical use of it.

4. Chipping nail polish off my toes and not caring.

5. Getting 3 lines of a song stuck in my head all day.

6. Saying random things which are entirely accurate to make people laugh, such as "Well, the stache suits him because it shows his personality: 70's porn star/bad cop. Yep, that's [Mr. Perfect]." Yes, this was said. Recently.

7. Setting slightly unreasonable goals for myself, like a list of 30 things.

8. Setting good goals for myself which allow me to grow as a person and learn new things and go new places.

9. Knowing when other people are crazy.

10. Being diplomatic when other people are crazy.

11. Not offending people, generally. Just being respectful around people when I need to be, really.

12. Coming up with interesting flavor combinations. Today was rose, litchi, and raspberry; yesterday was apple, celery, red onion, black truffle oil, honey, rice wine vinegar and curry powder.

13. Typos.

14. Being a klutz. (Secret: while some might expect me to dislike this one, I actually like it. Being graceful all the time would be boring, although it would mean a great deal fewer bruises and scars.)

15. Exposing my thoughts to the internet.

16. Getting worked up about political issues, because even though I don't want it to be my career, I really do love politics.

17. Being intolerant of stupidity.

18. Staying up far far too late when I need to wake up in the morning.

19. Putting my foot in my mouth.

20. Smiling. (This was my mother's contribution)

21. Making my mother laugh with the silly things I do. (Like this list)

22. Having a terribly messy but not dirty room.

23. Being nice to people, by which I also mean playing nice with people I don't always like.

24. Remembering things I've read, all the way back to my first and favorite book.

25. Knowing random information that is not necessarily relevant to my career.

26. Being enthusiastic.

27. Keeping track of makeup and fashion trends, and interpreting them in a way that I like without being a super trendster.

28. Finding romances in unexpected places.

29. Not being committed to those romances, at least in the past.

30. Finding bombshell dresses.


Ok, there you have it. 30 things, good and bad, which I do well.

Now, it's your turn.

Well, not only is my wrist feeling better, my brain is working much better than it was yesterday in that haze of drugs.

Also, apparently I'm allergic to ones of the materials they used in the dressing, which was a fun discovery today.

So my day today consisted of waking up, making breakfast (which was delicious because I didn't eat much yesterday/was hyped on Vicodin and didn't taste what I did, except for that chocolate chip muffin which was the best muffin ever, probably because of the drugs), tooling around on the internet for a while looking for clothes for my job this winter, and then sleeping. Now I'm awake again, and I'm probably going to eat some dinner and then go back to sleep, because Benadryl + Vicodin = very sleepy Joanna.

Fixing Things

So I got my wrist fixed today. Actually, I probably shouldn't be writing this because it doesn't feel awesome to move my fingers and takes a while longer to type than usual.

Anyway, went in this morning and was completely nervous until they brought me back, at which point everything calmed down a lot. Also, apparently hospitals have cushy chairs now instead of beds for outpatient surgeries.
So I put on my silly gown and housecoat and slipper socks (comfiest best thing ever) and sat there and met with like 4 people about what was going to be done and what kind of anesthesia they were going to use and then I finally got to go in and get on the table in the very chilly operating room.
Also, they had to run an IV, which I've never had before, and it feels so weird! I could feel the cold liquid running through my veins and I got so chilly!
So they put me out, and I woke up 45 minutes later on the table while they were dressing my wrist and started talking about pie. Yeah. No, I have no idea where that came from. For some reason, my next conscious memory after conking out was talking about pie.

Then I went to recovery, and everything was a lot more painful than they expected, so not only did I get the Vicodin I was supposed to, but also morphine because it hurt so much.

And now I'm all fuzzed out on Vicodin and my wrist hurts and I'm gonna go to sleep or watch a movie or something that doesn't involve moving.

Oh, and I got a chocolate chip muffin in recovery! Muffin and chocolate, together? Awesome.

Also, there were about 11 typos in this that I fixed because I can't type well right now and my brain isn't really working well either.

3-Minute Chocolate Fix

So there's this magical recipe circling the interwebs for a 3-minutes, microwaveable chocolate cake in a mug.
It's not the best chocolate cake ever, but it sure does fix those cravings.


Microwave Chocolate Cake
from Dizzy Dee

Ingredients:

4 Tablespoons cake flour
4 Tablespoons sugar
2 Tablespoons cocoa
1 Egg
3 Tablespoons milk
3 Tablespoons oil
1 Mug

Mix flour, sugar and cocoa
Spoon in 1 egg
Pour in milk and oil, and mix well
Put in microwave for 3 minutes on maximum power

Now I tend to add chocolate savings to this, but they get a tad charred.

However, whatever you do, do not, I repeat DO NOT, try to add marshmallows in an attempt to add some gooey deliciousness to your cake.
You know what marshmallows do in the microwave?

They make everything end in tears.



Of laughter.

If you should choose to add marshmallows, they are delicious. Be prepared to clean up, or have kids around who want to pick it all off the microwave plate before you wash it (which I totally did not do....).

Oh, and get ready to hold your sides from laughing so much.

It's de-lightful, it's de-licious...

It's De-Lovely

So you know how sometimes you just need to watch a sad movie? I do this periodically to get the emotions out of my system so I can go on as my normal, ice-queen-ish self, and avoid bursting into tears at particularly touching movies or around people.

My go to movie is De-Lovely, the charmingly sad story of Cole and Linda Porter, complete with awesome music.

One of my favorite tear jerker scenes is when everyone is singing to Blow Gabriel Blow and Cole is just about to die. There is so much love there, as every major player in his life sings to him and says goodbye.

And then, as the lights slowly fade, he and Linda sing In the Still of the Night:

In the still of the night
As I gaze from my window
At the moon in it's flight
My thoughts all stray to you

In the still of the night
All the world is in slumber
All the times without number
Darling when I say to you

Do you love me, as I love you?
Are you my life to be, my dream come true?
Or will this dream of mine fade out of sight?

Like the moon growing dim
On the rim of the hill
In the chill, still of the night

And, to send you off from this slightly melancholy missive, the one lyric that will always stay in my head and I will sing forever:

There's no love song finer
But how strange the change
From major to minor
Every time we say goodbye

Ever have one of those moments?

You know the type.

The kind that makes you doubt everything and makes you feel all alone.

So I had one of those "connections" today. Something that, if I lived in New York or LA or Chicago, would be up on Craigslist in the Missed Connections section.
"You dropped your change at the supermarket, and I picked it up for you, and then all the air in the world disappeared for just a moment. You left and turned right in your blue minivan while I turned left in my black Saab. Let's relive that shocking breathlessness."

If only.

But it got me to thinking. As everyone well knows, I suck at emotions and relationships. I haven't even had anything you could truly call a relationship.
Right now, however, I am in a mutual state of missing with someone.

I miss him dearly.
Sometimes, at the most random times, while I'm eating a lobster roll or just sitting there or watching an adorable couple on vacation (it happens a lot here), I miss him.
Or while we're chatting, and I'm wishing I could hear him saying these things, not just read them...
Or when my day has been terrible and I'm cranky and I can't deal with anyone and I feel like I'm going to pull my hair out, and he sends me just a few words and my whole day is better...

Or sometimes, when it's late at night and the thought of going to bed alone seems like an insurmountable task...

And my heart aches a little bit.

Because the Internet is More Interesting than Cleaning

Drastic Decisions

So I've been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my life.

For a really long time, I wanted to work for the government, maybe go into the Foreign Service or the CIA, but now I'm looking at an all together different CIA.

That is, the Culinary Institute of America.

Cooking has always been there for me. When things go wrong, I know I can always go bake something or make a meal and it will work. Yes, I may clang things around a lot and possibly drop not one, not two, but three eggs on the floor (yes, it has happened), but in the end it all works. As long as I don't run out of eggs.

All jokes aside, I am actually serious about this. I may not get into the CIA, but I'm certainly applying there, as well as a handful of other culinary schools, both domestic and international.

Side note: Le Cordon Bleu has a €1500 application fee. Just for the application. Damn.

Anyway, I'm officially transferring from RIT after fall quarter. This is my notice to you all. At the moment, I'm not sure whether I will be immediately transferring for winter term or taking some time off to work as an au pair in France, but either way, fall will be my last term at RIT.

As such, I fully expect it to be awesome.

The Obamas are Coming! The Obamas are Coming!

That's right, The Obamas are coming to Maine.

Mount Desert Island

Acadia National Park


I have to start working on my outfits.

Iron Chef

I have decided that I want to be an Iron Chef someday.



And not one of those wimpy "I won a competition" Iron Chefs like Michael Symon and Jose Garces.

I want to be so awesome the Chairman just appoints me Iron Chef.
Good life goals, no?

Secret: I actually love Mike Symon. He's one of my favorite Iron Chefs, right alongside Morimoto.

Want to know why I love Morimoto?
He's Badass. That's right, Badass. Capital B. He makes Tuna Tartare out of the best part of the fish, the part that is ONLY EVER used for sashimi. Cause he's cool like that. Also, how can you say no to this face?




Want to know why I love Mike Symon?



Besides his goofy laugh and hot sous chef, he is also badass. Not quite as much as Morimoto, obviously, as shown by the lack of capitalization, but still pretty damn awesome.

Baking With Wine

This is part one of my new series, Baking With Wine. NO, this does not mean I am going to incorporate wine into my dishes, although that might happen, but that I am going to bake things and drink wine, which means my posts may end up quite entertaining.

Today's Wine: Two Oceans Sauvignon Blanc and Praia Vinho Verde



Two Oceans is a South African winery, and quite nice and light, but slightly harsh on the palate.
Praio's Vinho Verde is my new favorite wine. It is gorgeously light and refreshing, with a slight scintillation, but nothing close to the effervescence present in Champagne. Seriously, if this wine was all I could drink for the rest of my life, I would be so happy.

Today's Baked Good: Blueberry Streusel Muffins

The estates my dad caretakes for both have insane blueberry patches, mostly because it's Maine and they want things that are essentially Maine-y. I have no issues with this, because it means that every year we get to go pick the blueberries they don't get to and freeze them, so we have them all winter. While it is nearly blueberry time again here (lots of sun and warm days means a very early season), we've still got bags of blueberries in our freezer so I am trying to use them up before we get inundated again.


Before I have even started baking, I have decided that the Two Oceans is far too acidic for my taste. Darn, that means I'll have to break into the Praia. What a shame. /endsarcasm


So, blueberry muffins. The last time I baked these was about 3 years ago, so I had to go searching for a recipe. Thank Whomever for foodgawker.

SO, I came across this recipe: Browned Butter Blueberry Maple Muffins
I love browned butter in recipes, and I love maple syrup (I am from Maine, after all), and the combination in these muffins sounds spectacular. So, here goes.

Well, partway through, waiting for the muffins to bake, and I have definitely had my share of alcoholic products for the evening.
The muffins smell amazing and are making me really sad that I actually ate dinner tonight, because I really want one.

Also, notes on the recipe:
I ended up making jumbo muffins. This means I only got 11 muffins out of a double batch of this batter. FYI.

I did use the white whole wheat flour because I happened to have it on hand. If you don't, just use regular. I really don't think it will make much of a taste difference.

Also, use Maine blueberries. I know finding them in stores not in Maine sucks, but trust me, the end result is definitely worth it. Maine blueberries (low-bush) are much smaller and have a much more concentrated flavor.

The key to a good muffin batter? Don't over beat. If you do, gluten will form and will make little tunnels through your dough that looks like you've got worms crawling through it. Nasty.


End result?




Fabulous. I'm giving these to the families who own the estates we picked the berries from, and I am predicting that their kids will go crazy over them. The Maple syrup adds a really nice depth to the overall flavor, and the white whole wheat flour adds a bit of nuttiness that tastes like a slightly enriched regular flour. You could definitely use regular flour, but the taste wouldn't be quite the same. And lacing through all of it, there is the almost unidentifiable taste of the browned butter. If you didn't know what it was, you would just assume the chef was a genius and had something up his/her sleeve.



Maine just came together with a bunch of products and had a baby and it is delicious.

Next week this is being renamed Baking with Booze, as I foresee myself running out of wine rather quickly if I don't find something else.

And now, If you'll excuse me, I am going to go watch Rachel Maddow - Live from Afghanistan and yell in agreement. Yay belligerence!

This is my awakening

fem•i•nist
n. A person whose beliefs and behavior are based on feminism.
adj. Relating to feminism.

So why do so many people have a problem with this word?
Last week I told my friend I wanted to start a feminist movement on campus. Now we go to a school where girls are outnumbered at least 2:1 and are constantly subject to misogynistic remarks with almost no regard to our feelings. I asked her if she would like to join what I was tentatively calling the “Feminist Club” (horrible title, I know, but I have never claimed creativity). She waffled for a little bit, and then told me that while she agreed with the ideals of feminism, she didn’t want to be labeled a feminist, and didn’t want to join the club because of that. Now I know I could change the name, but being up front is one of the things I do well, and I figured we should be as honest as possible with the name, and force feminism back into the stream of conversation at our school.

Should the word feminist ever be a deal breaker when it comes to a cause you truly support?
Why, if they believe in the ideals of feminism, do my friends say they are not feminists?

Last night, I had dinner with an ex. Let’s call him Jim. Yes, it was a silly idea. I was telling him how a new guy in my life had bought Jessica Valenti’s book, Full Frontal Feminism, because, and I quote, he “want[s] to know more about this because [I am] so passionate about it”. Was this the best date of my young life? In a word, yes. Not just for the amazing conversation about a variety of topics, but also for the way he let me split the bill (something my ex would never do) and the fact that his movie collection was just as eclectic as mine. Back to the topic at hand: my ex. I told him about how wonderful everything was going and how excited I was that my new guy was accepting of and interested in feminism nearly as much as I am.
You know what Jim says to me?
“You’re not a feminist. You don’t…. you’re just not. You don’t act like one.”
To my face.
Excuse me?
“I’m not a feminist? How so?”
“Well, I just don’t think of you as a feminist. You may support feminism, but you aren’t…”
“Isn’t that what a feminist is?” (At this point, I was mildly in shock, and he was backpedaling.)
“Well, you’re just not…”
“What, a hairy man-hating lesbian?” (I just heard Jessica talk, I feel justified in using this stereotype.)
“Well, yeah.”
“Trust me Jim, I’m a feminist. Just because I’m not a hairy man-hating lesbian doesn’t mean I’m not a feminist.”

Why do I even have to have this conversation?

And yet this is something we all do. I know feminists can be gorgeous and shave everyday if they want to (I do!) and like whomever the hell they want. The public in general, however, has apparently not realized this. They keep telling us that feminists will never get married, nor have successful lives, nor be attractive in any way.
I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of this.

Curse them.
If I want to get married I will. I’m keeping my last name though.
Damn them.
I’m attractive. I know that. I have boys climbing over each other for my attention.
Fuck them.
I will be successful at whatever I choose to do with my life. I will be the next Hillary Rodham-Clinton, or a female Steve Jobs, or the best spy in the entire world (on par with James Bond, only sexier, less misogynistic, and with better taste in drinks).

I am a feminist. This is my awakening.