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.