Shameless consumerism...

'Tis the season... to consume?

Yes, yes - we all know that Christmas has deteriorated to a mass orgy of spending, debt and subsequent guilt, with the 'true' values being cast aside for the latest X-box/plasma widescreen TV/iPod/insert consumer good of choice here. As a veteran victim of debt, I am categorically opposed to anything that induces people to max their plastic so people can accumulate more stuff, and think kids these days get too much, etc. etc. blah, blah, blah...

For me, Christmas is usually the longest period of time I get off work in the entire year. This means the annual return to the familial north, ranting with my dear Father about politics, much to the despair of my poor Mother, overeating, drinking, relaxing, getting cosy, making time to read and catch-up with old friends and family. In all, a glorious time.

In terms of gifts... I don't buy many and, therefore, I'm not really expecting many - and this if fine. For this reason, however, please allow me a momentary escape in a fantasy world where I get whatever the hell I like. Wishlist as follows:

Urban Outfitters

All Over Stud Drawstring Bag: £62



French Connection Bright Eyes Shirt: was £45, now £22.50 (but none left in my size. Damnation!)

A day in a spa:

£ the sky's the limit, baby

Waiting for the Etonians by Nick Cohen: £8.57

A Life Inside - A Prisoner's Notebook by Erwin James: £8.99

Rough Trade's top ten albums of the year (plus £10 voucher): £99

Urban Outfitters Playful Promises Black Bra £24 (who could resist?)

Classic iPod: £189 (because I'm sick of lugging my portable CD player and extensive CD collection around)

A year's subscription to Bust magazine: $39.95

Play: The Nylon Book of Music: £7.92

Urban Outfitters black brogues: £32

An extra 12 hours in the day, every day: £ priceless

Reasons for buying books

... as if any were needed! Great blog post to inspire and encourage.

http://litlove.wordpress.com/2009/11/17/reasons-for-buying-books/

Enjoy!

Fight the Power!

Five questions to ask any powerful person (according to Tony Benn):

What power have you got?
Where did you get it?
In whose interests do you use it?
To whom are you accountable?
How do we get rid of you?

DEAL OR NO DEAL? Musical Deal-breakers

I’ve recently discovered a now defunct blog penned by none other than Sleater Kinney’s Carrie Brownstein (OMG!!) about music. Joy! I’m slowly and surreptitiously working my way through the archive whilst pretending to type minutes, or some such, in my dull as shit job and I’ve already found something which I can rant about/around: musical deal-breakers. Read on…

“Each of us has a deal-breaker when it comes to songs, albums, or musicians. It's an aspect we cannot forgive, a line that cannot be crossed. Maybe it's a sound we abhor in a certain context - a children's choir or horn section, for instance, intruding on an otherwise perfectly austere album in the name of maturity and sophistication. Or maybe it's a band that gives your favourite song to a burger or clothing or car company.”

Are you getting the picture yet? If so, where to begin? I have so many it’s difficult to know where to start. I think I should just make a list (yes!)…

1. Seasonal bells in otherwise non-festive songs: these tend to be shoe-horned into singles with a November/December release that may or may not be aiming for the Xmas top-slot. Now, I love Xmas as much, if not more, than the average Joe – it’s my longest holiday of the year! - but I still find the inclusion of ‘sleigh-bells’ in any credible piece of music an abomination. A good example of this is ‘At My Most Beautiful’ by REM where we’re forced to endure the sound of sleigh bells before the lyrics have even kicked in. Painful.

2. Crowd participation at gigs or in clubs: I should be more specific here; I’m not unduly opposed to clapping on demand and so on at gigs, even thought I recognise that this is quite a contentious issue for many of my fellow gig-goers. My phobia tends to focus on hip hop tracks which require the ‘crowd’ to repeat lines or, more often than not, noises, e.g. MC: “Everybody say HO!” Crowd: “HO!” MC: “HO, HO!” Crowd: “HO, HO!” “MC: “DISCO!” Crowd: “DISCO!” MC: “PARTY!” Crowd: “PARTY!” etc. etc… OR “wave your hands in the air, and shake ‘em like you just don’t care” etc. etc….you get the picture. This is a perfect example of something that is best enjoyed alone and in the privacy of your own home. The whole process reeks too much of organised fun, and gives me flashbacks to dancing (dancing?) to ‘Superman’ by Black Lace at school discos. Shudder.

3. MC instructions for “ladies in the house!” to “shake that booty”: similarly to my second deal-breaker, this aural and visual atrocity tends to take place in clubs and other venues containing crowds (yet, ANOTHER reason to revert to the safety of my cave…). Classic scenarios are characterised by either an MC or record instructing the “ladies in the house” to “rub on your titties” (Pharoahe Monche’s ‘Simon Says’), “work it”, “shake your asses” etc… I don’t know what’s worse – the isolated instruction, or the countless women who use the opportunity to gyrate their damnedest for the smirking males on the sidelines. Sigh. The only exception to this rule is “Hey Ya!” by Outkast which may want to see ladies “on their baddest behaviour”, but is closely followed by a directive to “shake it like a Polaroid picture”. How can lassies gyrate straight-faced to such madness? Inspired!

For the record (ha!), I’m actually a massive fan of hip-hop, despite its occasional misogynistic, homophobic, racist, capitalist and pro-violence tendencies. No, really! My old housemate’s musical deal-breaker was the misunderstood saxophone. Any tune that saw fit to include a saxophone solo struck pain into her very core. Speaking to other pals on the subject reveals similar feelings. Other examples cited in the comments section made me laugh so much I had to include them – see below:

“The classic move, of course, is for the band to "bring it down a bit" during one of their extended jams, and for the singer to introduce each musician ("and on bass guitar, give it up for Steve 'Big Thunder' Connelly"). The audience will politely applaud, and maybe the musicians will respond to their name being spoken aloud with a clever little fill or riff. Hot! Then one of the musicians will step to the mic and introduce the singer to what will hopefully be the biggest applause of all. And if we're very, very lucky, the singer will feign surprise at being introduced at all - as if they hadn't spent hours choreographing the whole thing back in their dingy lockout.”

This happened when I went to see Fleetwood Mac, recently. It’s so cringey it makes me laugh like hell, rather than irritating me.

“My deal-breaker: Guitar Solo Face. You know what I'm talking about. As if there is something incredibly physically demanding about playing the squealy high notes.”

Not sure what this looks like? See the bloke rocking out in the stylish camouflage get-up below...

I’ve thought of another: flying-V guitars. Nuff said!

“The biggest deal-breaker of all time for me was Papa Roach exhorting the girls in the crowd at a show to take their shirts off and act up for the 'Girls Gone Wild' camera crews roaming the venue. Kudos to all the girls, as I didn't see any of them getting naked or otherwise 'wild'.”

Just another example of the myriad ways in which Papa Roach suck. WTF?

What are your musical deal-breakers?

Definatalie... how do I love thee?

I just wanna give massive props and respect to Natalie, an Australian blogger and artist, whose blog I'm officially hooked on. She da bomb! I can't actually remember how the hell I found out about her, but I'm so glad I did. Her art is awesome, her style is fly as hell and her politics seem to shoot from the same canon as mine. One post, in particular, that I've been meaning to link to for ages now is this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHfrNhkvoyA&feature=player_embedded

Every female should watch, listen and take frantic notes - it makes sense!

Check our her blog on the 'links i've known and loved' to the right of this post.

The lass is fearless, make no mistake.

Why I can't get to where I wanna go...

I’ve just returned from a deeply upsetting visit to the Oxford University Social and Cultural Anthropology Library or Tylor Library as it’s better known. Don’t get me wrong: the library itself was lovely, as were the staff who were incredibly friendly and helpful. As term hasn’t begun yet, the library was an oasis of calm and tranquillity and I spent a wonderful hour wandering round the stacks discovering lots of incredible books written by ex-tutors.

So, why was it so upsetting? Well, like with all things Oxford, my visit was another in a series of glaring reminders that I am positively not where I want to be in life. Being in the library reminded me of my brief and wonderful experience of being an Anthropology undergraduate in London . What a fantastic experience and privilege! As is so often the case upon reflection, I’d certainly do things differently, but I feel very fortunate to have enjoyed my studies as much as I did and to have done so in such a vibrant and stimulating environment.

It’s been six years since I graduated and I’m pretty much convinced that I haven’t had to use my brain once between the hours of nine and five during this period. I wasn’t particularly concerned about working in McJobs the first few years after graduating, but now I’ve finally grown up and started to develop a clearer idea of what I’d like to do with my life, it’s even more frustrating that I’m so stuck. Which, I am: impossibly, undeniably, infuriatingly. And it makes me crazy.

Why? Well, there are a few reasons. The first one I take responsibility for – but that’s as far as it goes. I’ve literally spent years punishing myself for bad financial decisions made when I was younger and dafter than today, and it stops now. I’ve pulled my head out of the sand and am now signed up to a debt management plan with the CCCS to pay back a small fortune every month in an endeavour to clear all my debt. If you or someone you know are experiencing similar problems with debt, I really recommend contacting them here. They’re a really brilliant organisation and free, which makes a refreshing change from all those mercenary set-ups that just wanna rip you off.

In order to progress up the damned ‘career ladder’ (especially in the field I’m interested in), you either need postgraduate or additional qualifications (my degree seems to be increasingly worthless with each passing year) and/or experience. Both of these options are hugely appealing – but not realistic. I can’t return to university because I need to be earning in order to pay off my debts, coupled with the fact that I couldn’t actually afford to support myself and pay my fees whilst I was there. ‘Internships’ and work experience really pisses me off because I can’t afford to work for free. I’ll say it again: I CAN’T AFFORD TO WORK FOR FREE. It fucking sucks and makes me so angry, that only a limited minority with family in London or parents who can support them financially are allowed into the club. I feel like I’m as good, if not better, than all those privileged arseholes – but I can’t get a break. Every possible organisation I research regarding internships requires a minimum commitment of a least a month. This sucks giant fucking balls.

It makes me SO angry, and then it makes me really upset. Because I wasn’t born to be someone’s fucking secretary, and I feel like more doors are closing as time passes. It’s completely futile, but I also feel angry at the fucking bank that offered a twenty-five year old a £10K loan (paid back at more than £13K) back when I was only earning £13K. Corporate responsibility, anyone?

Living in Oxford is strange… it’s a beautiful place, but it’s essential to remember that Oxford is not the rest of the world. It’s this weird microcosm of privilege and inequality and it’s something I really struggle with… that and being the oldest person at the bar at the ripe old age of – ooh – twenty-nine. Sigh…

Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women

I’ve just finished reading the introduction to “Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women” by Elizabeth Wurtzel. Have you heard of it? It was written in 1998, and has been collecting dust on my bookcase for as many years. The inside cover reads, “Bitch is a brilliant tract on the history of manipulative female behaviour, from biblical times through to trophy brides, political wives and dazzling depressives.” As indicated by the title, Wurtzel is attempting to reclaim and celebrate the label, and begins by exploring what traits are characteristic of a bitch and why it can be a positive term. In this sense, the book is a little dated, as so much has been written over the past 11 years about reclaiming the word, and why a refusal to tow the party line in terms of ‘acceptable’ female behaviour is progressive and powerful. Despite this, she highlights a number of issues that are even more relevant now than when she first wrote them.

Wurtzel quotes Ellen Wilis who argues that, “Feminism has transformed women’s consciousness without, as yet, transforming society, leaving a gap between what many of us demanded of a relationship and what most men were willing to give.” She challenges the reader to “go to any bookstore” and review the vast array – the industry, in fact – of self-help books for women who love too much/can’t keep a man/are fearful of abandonment/are addicted to love, before attempting to identify any similar works aimed at men who want to address their failure to commit/be faithful/non-possessive, etc. The reality? They don’t exist. They don’t need to. Why? “Men don’t have to change the way they sexually assess women, the way certain triggers and indications of female power or feminine weakness may frighten them off. They don’t have to because we women will learn to behave.” Depressingly, I still feel that this statement is all too true. Although there are exceptions, thanks be to Christ, it generally tends to be women that are expected to check and change any behaviour considered to fall outside the narrow margins of female acceptability, not men. As if to reinforce this position, Wurtzel quotes Susie Orbach, the feminist psychoanalyst, who states, “I see all sorts of young, confident women around, but when they’re in my consulting room, they talk about the same bloody issues we had thirty years ago. They’re afraid. Women in the most oppressive relationships are trying to manage them rather than get out of them. Only now, with no women’s movement, if you have problems you feel like a freak. All the problems are internalized.”

The sentence in bold above particularly resonates with me, as I have a close friend who I see making the same futile mistakes time and again with her partner. Rather than removing herself from an unhealthy relationship, I witness her pacifying and mollycoddling her controlling and possessive partner, rather than taking the zero tolerance approach that women would hopefully adapt if feminism had successfully filtered down to the personal. In this situation, the problems are her male partners’, who repeatedly refuses to acknowledge or take any responsibility for them, whilst she suffers considerably as a result. Attempts at assertiveness are often met with threatening and aggressive behaviour, while she chooses to display typically female traits of acceptance, control and denial “out of love”. She’s 21 years old. What hope is there for the rest of womankind?

I’ll leave you with a quote used in the book that I’d quite like embedding in brass and hanging above the threshold to my pad:

“Women who pay their own rent don’t have to be nice.”

So remarked by novelist Katherine Dunn – all power to yer!

A day in hand

Here's a cause that's worthy of support:

http://www.adayinhand.com/

It's basically about inspiring and supporting same-sex couples who want to hold their partner's hand in public. Might sound a bit daft to those of you who don't give a second thought to pawing their significant other in public but, as a lady with a ladyfriend, it's something that I can't help but be conscious of i.e. where are we, are we safe, are we gonna get nutted by some random nutter, etc.

I know when me and the wife spot same-sex couples holding hands/being openly affectionate together in public, we nearly fall over each other with excitement at the sight (and not in a sleazy way, I hasten to add. Well - not always...). I still remember seeing a couple of young guys kissing each other goodbye in the centre of town on a busy Saturday - that takes balls, man! I wanted to go up and shake their hands for it.

So, go: be inspired! I certainly am :)

Cyclewear for the chic

As both a resident in one of England's premier

'cycling cities', and a keen cyclist, I have to share the joy I experienced when discovering these completely fabulous cycle helmets... absolute genius. The website I found these on didn't include prices, which always makes me suspicious. I've a feeling they cost a small fortune. Dang.

Check out more inspired cycle helmets here http://http//www.yakkay.com/Covers/

Barcelona pic and a sandwich filling suggestion...

Wow! Visual content on the blog! Check me out!

I decided to start experimenting with pics and images on my blog as, so far, it's simply been lots of text, with no eye candy. Some of my favourite blogs successfully use images and pics, and it's good to break up the content.

I took this pic on a recent trip to Barcelona with the wife. We spent four nights in Barcelona, then headed up the coast for three nights of beach time. I hadn't been away for over two years, so the holiday was long overdue. Our thoughts? Wicked city, but very, very expensive, primarily due to our falling pound. One of the joys of holidaying, for me, is to take time out from the stresses of everyday life and ENJOY. Unfortunately, much of the trip was spent worrying about how expensive everything was and being unable to enjoy our time fully and do all the stuff we wanted to, due to financial restrictions.

Nevertheless, I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to get the hell out of dodge and see somewhere new, plus the sunshine was an absolute delight. For those of you lucky souls who don't live in the UK, you might not know that we're currently experiencing our third "washout" summer in a row... cool, wet, with very little sunshine. I can accept living in a country where nine months of the year are characterised by rain, cold and gloom, but only if we get our minimal sunshine quota in the summer.

The picture above was taken from the roof of one of Gaudi's apartment buildings. I like this picture because it looks like a dolls house! Each room seems very different in style and appearance from all the others. I love the roof-top garden, too.

I'm shooting off to make a sandwich, now. Here's a recipe for one of my all-time favourite sandwich fillings:

Tin of tuna

Tub of cream cheese

Spring onions

Take the tin of tuna and empty in a bowl. Depending on how much of a cheese fiend you are, and how big the tub is, take about 1/3 to a 1/2 of a tub of cream cheese and mash it all up with the tuna. Finely chop the spring onions, then throw 'em in the mix. Mash it all up, then fork it on to brown bread. Mmmm. Tasty.

Respect for women?

THE PRODIGAL BLOGGER RETURNS!! It may well be true that no-one has looked at my blog for, like, a year (and, even then, readership never topped more than my Ma and a few well-meaning pals), but hey ho. Despite my posts being few and very far between, it's good for me to purge myself of all these thoughts and feelings in the vague hope that a kindred spirit will happen upon it and provide answers to life's dilemmas and problems. Or not.

The good news is that I'm finally shut of my unholy job in the NHS. Okay - so I'm still doing relatively unchallenging and unfulfilling administrative work, but it's a much nicer place... I'm currently typing (writing?) this in the Bodleian Library (heaven!), but for fear of my enemies using information against me, I refuse to spill any more work-related beans. Paranoid, moi?

I've just returned from my first introduction to Springboard - ever heard of it? It's a "professional and personal development programme, by women for women", which might sound like yr worst nightmare, but I totally buy all that self-development shit. I see a counsellor once a week, and am a firm believer that everyone should be in therapy, all of the time. Sorts me right out. (Note: I am NOT American) In its defence, it's a very well-respected, internationally recognised programme where I can, hopefully, learn a few pointers on how to be less dysfunctional within a professional environment (no mean feat).

The group numbered about 20-25 women, who were placed into groups of five, each comprising approximately five people. About half-way through the day, we were asked to brainstorm ideas on what was "hot" about being a women and what was "not" (I didn't like the terminology, either). I sat there and pondered... it wasn't long before I realised that there was no major advantages I could think of as a direct result of being female. I vaguely mumbled something about women's capacity to carry and give birth to babies (although if this is the only highlight of being female, I'm considering a refund), until someone phrased it more eloquently as "control over your fertility", which sounded much more compelling. Other than this, I could think of NOWT. How depressing! The other women in my group posited the following arguments: "wearing make-up", "being girly", "being able to wear high-heels", "dressing up pretty", "going to the beauty salon" and - wait for it - "chivalry". Where to begin? I was equally despairing and incredulous at such responses and tried to respond to the worst offender in the group by stating that some of these things were not exclusively based on gender (for example, "multitasking" and "dressing up pretty"), arguing that some of my male friends were super sharp dressers and interested in fashion. The worst offender retorted that such men were either "gay" or "weird".

We then had to read our shortlist out to the rest of the group. When my fellow 'Boarder read out our list, I shook my head in despair and pulled a face. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that I disagreed with what was being said. But - and this is the point of this entire post - I then started to question why I had felt it necessary to respond so scathingly to what the worst offender said. Wasn't she as entitled as me to her opinion on the joys (ahem) of being a woman? The more I sat and contemplated my hot-headed and incredulous response, the worse I felt. I'd made it heard to her, loud and clear, that I thought her opinion on this was bullshit. It suddenly occurred to me that I was as bad as those cliquey queer crowd or radical feminist twats, who see things in black and white, allowing no wiggle room for differing opinion. Yes - I strongly disapproved and disagreed with what she said - but I didn't respect her right to speak about this.

It's so easy to do this, and I'm probably guiltier than most. How can I call myself a feminist and preach about "respect for women", when I only respect women who have the same thoughts and politics as me? My response was inverted snobbery of the worst kind - what gives me the right to pass judgement on her lifestyle choices? My pals and I are all guilty of dissing blonde, fake-tanned, fashion obsessed girls, and y'know what? I think it's wrong. To paraphrase Voltaire, I might not agree with what they say, do and their obsession with appearance but, as a feminist, I should defend their right to do what the hell THEY choose (even if this has been heavily influenced by patriarchal hegemony. Ahem.) Women can't fucking win! They're either overweight, not conventionally "beautiful" enough, or they're too far gone in the other direction. We should all give each other a fucking break.

Signing off - thoughts/comments welcomed.