Daytime delights.

So, Week 0 approaches inexorably. It looms over the horizon, a massive wave of maths and queer and debating and university and life and stuff and things to do. SO MUCH STUFF.

After trying to be manly about my illness (read: stupid), I decided to actually get medical advice. Incredibly painless, actually. They have a walk-in clinic. Opens at 8:30. You walk in, they take your name, and then you wait your turn to be seen. I waited about 5-10 minutes to be seen.

The doctor listened to me breathe, stuck things in my ears, made me say "aaahhhh", had a good look all over me, mumbled "39" and "bronchitis" and "here you go". I now have a course of antibiotics and instructions to have paracetamol every four hours to keep my fever under control. Apparently, 39 degrees is too hot for a grown up to be. In fact, it's too hot for anyone to be. (And I thought I was hot because of my parents' ludicrously warm house...!)

In total, this week, there have been four working days. I have worked four hours of these four working days. Grand total of £20 there. Spent a third of that on antibiotics, and probably spent the rest on soup and mouthwash and Ribena (I am drinking A LOT of Ribena.)

However, there are some upsides. For example, I have discovered Wogan's Perfect Recall. I quite enjoy this quiz show, actually. It's hosted by Terry Wogan (long term childhood crush, blame Eurovision) and the format is that you start of with 4 contestants, and the number whittles down in each round. Now, the answers are the same in every single round; it's the questions that change. So, if you can remember what the answers were, then you'll do quite well. Obviously, you need to be quick on that buzzer, etc.

I've taken to have two showers a day now. By the time it gets to about 2pm, I've been sweating so much that I just want to take another one (I take my first at 7:30). So, I'll be doing that. I think I'll wash my hair too. I'll make sure I dry it very very well, don't want to get even more sick.

Bleeding!

So, some of my Facebook friends have developed a curious corollary to follow the "I went to the shops" type status. Something along the lines of "I'm having a period and I don't like ittttttt."

What am I supposed to say in response to that?

"Ibuprofen, you dolt."
"Wait a few days, then you'll be fine."
"Cut your womb out. It'll hurt less... oh wait."

I'm not ashamed of my body, and its willingness to provide me with varying amounts of icky and pain. I don't like it, but, it's my lot, and I accept it. I don't feel the need to tell everyone about the state of my ladyplaces. Frankly, I don't think anyone particularly wants to know.

On top of that, telling everyone on Facebook you're on the rag and as such will be irritable is like saying "I'm in a bad mood, and I refuse to do anything to make it easier for people. I'm a bit of an ass."

Lots of women suffer much so much more than you. For example, I read once that when women undergo female genital mutilation of the most "complete" kind, the whole area is basically sewn up bar the tiniest little hole. So, there's all the usual womby contractions, then on top of that, there's the risk of infection, and the pain of that little hole. There's also endometriosis (Noelle from Cycle 3 of ANTM has it), which does generally suck pretty bad, and gives you a good chance of infertility too.

Healthy Western women are so lucky. We can basically ignore everything going on apart from approximately half an hour each day, when you pop a paracetamol or go to the bathroom. Just stop whining, take a painkiller and go for a walk.

TL;DR - Man the fuck up.

Where are the blogs?

It just occurred to me I've not been around too much. So, here's what I've been doing.

• Boyfriend
• Job
• Travelling to boyfriend
• Family crap
• Panicking about maths
  
• Writing a high school love story that I'm not allowed to call "High School Love Story" because otherwise it'll sounds like porn.
• General creative malarkey
• More boyfriend, especially on the phonemobile.
  

There we go. It takes up a lot of time to do all that, and sleep 8 hours a night.

Apologies to the loyal reader(s) I have out there. Literally, I have no idea who reads this. But if you're still out there, there'll be more rants and grumbles coming later.

Stay tuned in!

Stop.

At about 8:20pm on Friday night, I finally admitted to myself that I wasn't okay. Things had got out of hand, and my head was a mess. I couldn't cope any more.

I thought of 13 Going On 30, kinda stupid movie, but I like it anyway. Jenna, 13, with the help of nondescript movie magic, becomes Jenna, 30. After a whole bunch of grown-up things are thrown at her, she feels overwhelmed and goes home to her parents, who make her pancakes and make her feel better.

So, I went home. I made the pancakes though.

I'm going back tomorrow morning. I'm behind on work; I doubt I'll catch up the time I've had to take out. Still, I think I needed it. I don't think I'd have done much better there.

I feel kinda weak, a bit ashamed. I let the situation get to me, I let it break me. But, I know that everyone has limits, and I reached mine and I should just accept it, recover and come back stronger.

I'm not sure where I'm going to go now. I guess I should just take care of myself. I'm clearly more delicate than I think I am. So, reducing stress, trying to focus on the maths ahead of me. I can do it. (Of course I can.)

Where is my mind?

Woke up again for the second time by my alarm clock. Normally I wake up a few minutes before it, but I didn't today, and I didn't yesterday. Took me half an hour to get out of bed. I'll wake up eventually, but currently, I'm quite tired.

Living here drains me. My sugar moves, I can't use the kitchen without impeccable timing or stubborn determination, I have to consider the cost-benefit analysis of having a conversation in the house. I can't invite anyone over without pissing him off. I've only got a calendar month left here, but there's enough stress to be dealing with already without not having a home to chill out in.

I'm cold. I have to wear two pairs of everything and a dressing gown to stop shivering. It's May. That doesn't seem right.

I listened to my massive amount of Beatles last night. Played "Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand" quite a lot.

I've been talking a lot to A. Ever since first year, I've always wondered whether it was healthy to have such a firm foot in my past, specifically a part of my past that hasn't always been good. But, we're talking a lot right now and I think that the more I worry about Something happening, the more likely it is that something will. But, I'm pretty sure that I can just about handle hanging out with him and not having sex. I'm kinda excited about having a proper friendship with him - we never really had one first time round.

I have to shop today. I've run out of basics, but I've also run out of money. All I have to do is buy enough to survive until Thursday morning.

The sky is blue, with a few puffy clouds. One looks like a unicorn goring a badger. Another one looks like a pregnant goat.

I should get dressed and start my day properly. Gotta stay upbeat, nothing else to do... ^^

27

This is probably one of my favourite songs, there are some really interesting phrases. Not sure if they all work together, but as snapshots of songwriting flair, it's not bad. It's really not that bad.

It's just about being lost in a world you don't recognise, being flung into a world of stars and tours and not seeing your family for months. Sex, drugs, parties, late nights, loud music, bright lights, city living.

So far, it's Day 3. Time passes so slowly when you're thinking about it in the present, but then, before you know it, you're at Sunday, and your exams are tomorrow, and have you done enough? Day 3. Of course, it feels longer, since I was pretty single after the penultimate time I called and he said, "I won't see you for an indefinite time." I didn't have a boyfriend; I had someone who was on my Recently Called list. But, in fact, it has only been three days officially.

I need to think of something to do, use the rest of my 11 obligatory days effectively. Of course, once I get out of 11 days, I have the rest of my (lonely?) single life ahead of me - joy! I really ought to do some song-writing really soon. I want to be able to give myself the time to do it, but not quite yet. There's so much to say, and everything always sounds so much more real when I sing it. It's one of the few times when I can't help but always be sincere, when I sing. (I guess why I'm so afraid of letting people see me sing properly.) Maybe on Sunday night, after my exec meeting, I can just chillax, write a whole bunch of stuff. I'm no Regina Spektor, but I like what I do.

What after the 11 days? Well, meet lots of new people, find most of them perfectly palatable, but ultimately, not quite right. I went to the election debate, they were showing it in the union, and I found a friend of mine, and sat with her, and her friends. And that's how I met Jeff/Geoff. He was kinda quiet, looked a bit pretentious - but he's a philosophy student, so I guess that can't be helped. He shook my hand very firmly, both when we met, and when we said goodbye. He seemed kinda boring, unfortunately. He didn't seem to be the type to get my off-the-wall type of humour. Of course, this is all first impression-y type stuff, so it could be wrong, but, you know, that's all you get first time round.

Then again, not many people get my humour. A kid from debating was at the debate too, and he pointed at the TV and asked me who I was supporting, and I said, "Arsenal, of course." He didn't get it, and I had to explain the joke and then he did get it, and everyone on my table was like "FAIL" and it was kinda funny. (Turns out that he also turns up sometimes to the Sunday Focus meeting I used to do in first year. I was thinking of Making An Appearance once in a while, they're a good bunch of people, and being cooked for on a Sunday is always nice.)

Ben was like that too. One time, we were having lunch in the school dinner hall, and we had the following exchange:

"I'll make a beeline towards you later."
"Why not a flyline, or waspline?"
*silence* "What?"
"Bee, fly, wasp. All flying insects."
"Yes, I did get it it was an attempt at humour. It just wasn't funny."

Yeah, he was a little harsh sometimes. Such is life.

America's Suitehearts...

I've been watching a lot of Supersize vs Superskinny lately. There's a lot of it on the Channel 4 archives, and it's a good way to spend 40 minutes without too much pain. Basic premise: someone eats too little and is underweight; someone eats too much and is overweight. Swap their diets!

In this latest series, they have a video clip sent from Stateside to the overweight/obese person on the program to remind them that fat kills. You get the shots of them not being able to put shoes on, being washed by careworkers, sitting and looking depressed when their kids run around in the garden without them.

Sadly, there's only so much TV you can watch without just feeling your brain turn to mush, and you desire something else.

There have been occasions when I've almost wanted to be at home. At least talking kitchen with Mom was a conversation.

I've not been a total hermit anyway; I've seen a few people over the few days. Sunday was dinner with some old Christian friends. I am considering seeing them on a more regular basis; they're a good bunch of people, even if their lives are focused around something I can't comprehend right now. I saw Clare and her house on Monday, had a curry with them. I actually had enough leftovers for a full plate the following day too (with rice to spare!), so that was pleasing.

I've been thinking a lot about food lately. There's not a great deal happening here: I wake up, I fritter time on the internet, I eat, I shower, I try to revise, I eat lunch, I revise a little more, I eat dinner, I watch TV and movies and talk to the odd internet person until it's 11:30 and I can go to bed without waking up at ridiculous o'clock the following morning.

Sigh. Lazy Wednesday...

She's my Winona.

About 9 years ago, an actress did some shoplifting, and it was in the papers and stuff. She was kinda famous, did some movies you might have heard of (Heathers is one). It's a little stupid to shoplift, to be honest. Especially in a designer store. They've got security guards and cameras everywhere! Duh.

What's also stupid is the current thread of news stories about installing a panic button on Facebook. The idea is that kids would feel threatened by a paedophile on Facebook and hit the button, reporting the incident and linking them to a site that can tell them how to deal with bullying, harassment, etc.

The reason it's come about is because of a 17 year old girl called Ashleigh. To summarise the story: she saw a topless boy on Facebook, started to talk to him, met him in person, found out he was a middle-aged murderer.

Now, I've talked to a lot of people on the internet; some were totally normal people, others were dodgy, depraved, and just gross (one guy sent me lots of videos of him masturbating. Yummy.) Some of my closest friends are people I've met over the internet, and then gone on to meet in person. Given that I'm still alive, there are safe ways to conduct yourself over the internet, even if you do encounter dodgy people, that ensure you'll be alive to come home to your folks.

Who meets people when they feel endangered by them? Hands up! Oh, I see no hands. This isn't just because it's the internet - it's because nobody goes to meet someone they don't trust! This is so bloody obvious. It's the way grooming works! Get their trust, get them to meet you without telling their folks. A child who trusts the person they're talking to isn't going to hit the panic button. Therefore, they'll still get murdered, if that's the unfortunate way it's going to go.

As far as I can tell, here is the problem, and the solution:

Problem: Kids/teens are stupid/insecure/lonely, parents don't communicate the risks in a non-lecture way, kids ignore sensible advice because They Think They Know Best.

Solution: Parents, talk to kids more frankly. Kids, appreciate that there are weird people over the internet. Don't meet everyone you talk to. Stay safe. (Never trust topless boys.)

Although I haven't always played it as safe as the government recommends (i.e. don't meet anyone over the internet unless your parents know all the details and come along to meet them too), I think I've done it reasonably. I've always talked to the person for an extensive amount of time before thinking about meeting them, and always stopped talking to them if I found any weird inconsistencies. In the cases of people I have actually met, I've actually got to know some of their friends as well a bit, and they confirmed enough for me to feel okay about it.

So, today's post was about stupidity. If I was on Mastermind, it'd probably be my specialist topic :p

I don't care. (That's not true, is it?)

It's occurred to me recently how much I do care, about things, and people. I'm a sensitive person, although I don't always act like one. Sunshine makes me happy, grey clouds make me sad. Reading about child brides in Yemen makes me feel angry and sad (but that's another topic for another day, reader.)

So far, revision is going okay. Just okay. I would have liked to been further ahead by this stage, but it has been incredibly leisurely, so what I've lost out on in terms of achievement, I've also lost out in terms of math-stress. I'm at the halfway mark now. I have 15 days until my first exam. There are 11 example sheets left. I assume that I won't work any slower than one sheet a day, and that leaves me four days to do practice papers and cram results. This is probably good timing; you want to keep exam ready for as little time as possible, and yet you want to give yourself enough time to reach that state.

Very nervous about the second block. There are 20 days between my last exam in the first block and the first exam in the second block. 20 days, four modules, four three-hour exams. HALP.

I'm currently trying to consider whether conference is a good idea. It's be SO AWESOME to spend a long weekend with a bunch of politically minded, intelligent, articulate queer students. Caucuses, workshops, nights out, coffees in. But, it is three days out of that precious twenty. Is 17 days enough? Potentially, I could try to study somewhat on the train, or stay in at night and study then, but I feel that misses the point of an experience like this. You need to talk to the people you meet, make friends, enjoy experiences. For me, I like to do things properly, balls to the wall, or not at all. So, it would be three days completely out.

Money is generally looking good right now. I hope to receive the Weekly Letter every week, which is £20, and I can really economise since I'm not on campus to be tempted by drinks and dinner at the Duck, baked potatoes, and snacks from Costies. So, if I spend £30 a week, that means I'm only spending £10 of my own money. Score! I estimate I can save up to £200 this way.

I cut my thumb today! I was chopping up some sweet potato for my dinner when my knife slipped. It was quiet deep, and the blood was really bright red. It was quite scary, and I didn't have any plasters on hand, so I made one using kitchen towel and masking tape!

Bedtime. ^^ Now THAT is something I am very passionate about!

F*ck this.

I hate feeling this way. I'm at home, so that's throwing up a whole lot of feelings. I've failed to mention any of the big things I wanted to this holiday (mostly David)... I know that Mom talking about wheatgrass paint and church-related drama isn't the most thrilling thing to sit through, but it's a conversation about something. She decided to tell me the stories, so that's something at least.

I feel so insecure. I know I am probably alright on my own. Like, I can be okay. I don't *require* people to support me. But it's difficult. I just feel pretty worthless to be honest.

I mean, logically, I can say quite confidently I'm not ugly, I'm kinda interesting (I knit, I like strange music, and I can get drunk off nothing but a good atmosphere), and I shouldn't feel so down about myself. I'm me! It's not that bad, really.

I feel like, once again, I've screwed it up. I didn't do it the way you're supposed to.

I really really want this to work out. And, part of it is so that I don't have to be alone, I'll admit that. But, there's more to it than that. I like him. I like him more than I like people I've known for years. It doesn't make sense, but there you go. I get excited at the idea of drinking coffee with him, for fuck's sake. I like watching TV type stuff with him, chilled out in his room. There's so many little things I like about him, things he does, things he says.

I'm scared he'll leave me. It's always seems to be the way it goes when I find someone; either I leave, or they do. Nobody ever stays. I found an email the other day, when Laney left me. Summary: "You're nice, but I don't really like you all that much and I'll probably just cheat on you when I get to uni, so, yeah. Sorry." I remember being really sad when she said that. She'd really grown on me by that point. I remember I had made her this thing out of Celebrations and Quality Street wrappers, it was really bright and colourful, and it had "Penny Laney" on it, cos that's what I called her. I think I threw it away when I read the email, but it stayed on my bedside table for quite a while before I did. For some reason, I just wanted to torture myself, a reminder of how undesirable I was.

I hate feeling this way. Powerless. I guess that's why I hate the idea of love so much. It seems to be okay if both people feel equally powerless, and they're happy with that, but I like to be in control. I like to know where things are going, what's going to happen. I only like surprises if I know they're going to be good. Then again, I hate things being boring, and it is kinda boring being in control all the time. I can't win this way. Something's gotta change (and it's probably me).

When I was younger, 14 or so, I wished that I'd fall asleep one day and wake up as someone that wouldn't fuck things up all the time. Reading through my emails the other day made me realise how little I'm actually changed in 7 years. Still selfish, still cruel, still thoughtless. I'm less like that than I was, though. I do care about people who aren't me. I found an email I'd sent to my first ex, basically acknowledging I was deliberately messing with his mind because it was fun. I don't think I'm that girl any more. I'm still capable, I'd just feel too bad about doing it.

I'm trying to be better. I am. I want to be good for him, and anybody else that might come along later. I want to be good for myself.

Stupid fucking emotions. Getting in the way of my studies. It's the human condition, I guess.

(I'll get out of feeling this way some time in the next few days, and I'll look back at this post and just think "I'm such a whiny kid. Man up!" But, you know, this is how I feel right now. :/)

Post-electioneering...

So, after the weeks of being bombarded by "Vote Joe!" signs all over campus, we have a new Sabbatical Officer team sitting in the wings, waiting to take over the current ones. After being gently nudged and prodded to care about referenda and voting, the referenda all did reach quorum (just about), and two conflicting motions were both passed. (Can you simultaneously reaffirm and dissolve sponsorship bans from unethical companies?)

It is also interesting to note how a student body of over 20,000 can't get more than 2000 people to vote. Students are turned off by politics, and even more turned off by the politics that should be the most relevant to them: who runs their union, and what does their union do for them. People don't vote unless their friends are running, or they're one of the few people genuinely passionate about their union.

Most people don't care; they rarely see the union actively working for them. Most just see the union do things that they rather resent, like tearing down a grubby but well-loved union and giving them an expensive, empty-feeling building with silly names for places (who names a pub the Dirty Duck?!) Or, giving them a £100+ per ticket graduation ball and summer festival they didn't ask for, when all they wanted was a Final Fling, like every other year got.

But, I digress. In general, the student body doesn't care about their union, and they don't care too much about who's actually doing what.

Take Union Council, for example. In the yearly election, where some are vying for presidential power, or some other large Sabb role, others are elected to be on Union Council. Compared to how large the campaigns for Sabb roles are, the other elected positions fade into nothingness. So, nobody really notices (or cares) about bodies like Union Council.

Until now.

Among other things they do (of which I'm not quite sure), they also have the power to hold Sabbs to account. This means that they can question a Sabb's actions, censure Sabbs (an official written slap-on-the-wrist) or even pass a motion of no confidence if they feel a Sabb can no longer fulfil their role in accordance with the constitution they agreed to abide by.

So, when the Communications Officer sent a biased email, wrote a biased flyer, and made a biased Facebook group, they held him to account, and they passed the motion of no confidence.

What is the role of Communications Officer? To communicate. Referenda are probably the most important thing for a union, they are the way that the student body can actually make decisions on where its union goes. So, if the Communications Officer makes the mistake of only mentioning two of his favourite motions and making it quite clear what side he's on, I don't think that he's using his Sabb powers to benefit the union.

There are questions of course. Should it be right for Union Council to be able to make such large decisions with a meeting that barely reached quorum? Should there have been a 2/3 majority vote? Given that students are now becoming aware of Union Council actually doing something, they're in a tizzy, and everyone's crying for an EGM. Should an EGM be able to overturn the Council's decision?

Were they too harsh? He didn't do it on purpose, it was a mistake, he said. Would censure suffice as a punishment?

As for the whole "Union Council pushing around their power to ruin lives", well, you know, this is what happens when people stop caring about politics. A bunch of people they don't know get elected by their friends, and representation fails to work. They make decisions, and if you didn't go out to vote and choose them, you can't expect to strike lucky, and have a team that represents you. You need to vote, or, better still, be on that council and make decisions.

Besides, bodies like Union Council have to exist, for the sake of sanity. Could you imagine having direct democracy, a referendum on every issue? The levels of voter apathy are bad enough as it is.

A motion of no confidence is a pretty big deal. Should you trust the student body to be able to judge whether he acted constitutionally, or whether making him leave his job is a fair punishment?

I dunno. It's all a big mess, really. I'm not really that invested in the politics itself; I just like to watch the carnage...

To end though, I would like to point out that I have some friends who are involved in Union stuff, and are very passionate about it, and love their work, and take it very seriously. I respect what they do. Such a thankless job, for the main part. Yet, as we've seen, the decisions they make behind closed door really can make a difference.

Zip!

If terms were to make a sound, that's what they'd make.

Many, many months ago, I was stood in the Sports Centre car park with a few bags of shopping and a tear on my cheek. My parents drove away, and I wondered just how long 10 weeks would feel.

The first night was slow, and long. But, then I went to the free-food-and-quiz that the Chaplaincy was hosting, and the rest is history.

I'm nearly three years in. That's a long time to spend in one place, I think. I dunno. Three *weeks* can see like a long time to be in one place (especially if it's on holiday with my family).

I'm almost ready to leave in some respects. But not quite. I still like this place. I reckon that, by this time next year, I'll be ready to leave, get a job. I might not even do a PhD. I'm not sure I'm considering doing one for the right reasons. Or even if I'm able to do one, academically.

I was at a table today, in the department. Three (occasionally four) smart guys were on my table, pacing, scrawling on nearby blackboards, braincells firing. I felt so fucking stupid next to them. Like, my brain was made of treacle. I brought a full-set of legible lecture notes, which they frequently perused and occasionally asked me to help find a definition, but that was pretty much the extent of my use.

I just wish I was smart and confident like them. I'm not stupid, I know, but I just want to give up so badly sometimes. It's just so difficult to see someone just pull theorems and results and words out of the air, put them on a blackboard and just make it work, when I spent all weekend desperately trying to get my head around anything and just getting more frustrated and depressed.

It'll pass, it always does. It's hard for a while, then the concepts click and you're doing fine again. It'll just be difficult for a little while, but it's why I'm here, isn't it? :p

Fall forward, spring back.

Sometimes, you fuck it up. *shrug* It happens. Pretty often when it comes to me, in fact.

Then you find something wonderful, inside all the mess and entanglements.

I found... a soulmate, I think. We went to dinner last night, Tristan and I, and we talked honestly and we came out the other side. We were both scared, I think, that we'd have just landed on two different opinions that were fundamentally incompatible. But, we didn't.

Of course, everyone at debating jokes that we're this clear obvious why-are-they-not-dating couple, and yet we both agreed we'd be a terrible partnership. But, as friends, it's perfect. We need each other, and we give each other what the other need.

He's my favourite person in the world right now. I can see myself being just as close to him after graduation, and beyond. I will miss him so much when he leaves.

There's still a lot of cleaning up to do, and things that need time to heal, but I am pretty pleased to find that life can throw up something immensely awesome even when you fuck up.

Weekend of...?

This weekend, after lectures, I'm going home, then going to London.

My parents are renewing their vows.

One of the best speakers in debating asked me if I'd like to compete with him in Leeds, and I had to turn him down. Of course, something this important to my family is more important than a competition, but still, it'd have been really great to speak with him that much.

I hope it won't be too awkward. I have lots of new paperbacks now, of varying sizes, so I can slip a couple thin ones into my bag and it might not be so bad.

VERY busy week to look forward to though. Pride Q&A panel stuff, movies, Hornblower, more movies, meetings, socials, lectures, all that jazz.

On top of that, it seems like I should get started with revision in earnest quite soon. Four weeks of term left, five weeks of holiday before the exam slaughter begins. I've been reading through notes, revisiting notation, relearning definitions. My plan is to start to seriously look at example sheets and move onto exam papers, and looking at important exam-condition-provable results from the course.

So, there's lots and lots going on. So far, I'm just running around madly between everything I'm doing and getting tired but still enjoying everything. It's a good thing I'm an optimist with a seemingly endless Supply of Emergency Joy to call upon.

In other news, swimming has made my arms look sexier. SCORE!

It's not rape o'clock. It never is.

According to the BBC, there's quite a lot of women who think that rape victims should take some responsibility for being raped under certain circumstances.

Let's have a look at this, and get some stuff out there.

Here is a (non-exhaustive) list of things that doesn't immediately mean "It's okay to have sex with me":

• Talking to a man flirtatiously
• Wearing next-to-nothing
• Drinking an entire bottle of tequila, or equivalent
  
• Kissing a guy in a bar or club
  
• Going home with a guy for a coffee/drink
• Talking about sex with a guy
• Getting into bed with a guy
• Being naked with a guy
• Doing foreplay with a guy

Here is a (again, non-exhaustive) list of things that mean "It's okay to have sex with me":

• Saying "It's okay to have sex with me".

The second list is much shorter, I realise. This is because the only way you can consent is if you consent. You can even stop consenting during sex. At which point, consensual sex becomes rape. Of course, if the girl is absolutely silent and appears as relaxed/tense as before, the guy (in a world of sexual oh-my-gosh) might not be thinking of this and looking out for it. This is not a defence of the guy; everyone should check that people want sex all the way through sex. It just seems fair. And nice.

On a side note, how many people actually say, "Do you want to do this?" every time before actually having sex? How many guys really want to hear the true answer? Everyone's had that time when you're desperate to get laid, and your partner is like, "well, I'm not really up for it..." and you're just stuck, aroused as hell in the dark with a sleeping lump of person next to you. It's not fun... but, sex is just much better with consent. So, you can see where I'm going with this.

So, what about this responsibility issue? I think that girls should be careful, of course. Going home with a man you don't know is probably not the best way to stay safe, and incapacitating yourself through drink is, again, not wise. Neither action immediately implies consent to sex.

However, getting into bed naked with a guy you met hours ago could give the impression that you're "up for it". Being too drunk to realise you're pawing at a guy's clothes could give the impression of consent. I think girls should realise the power of actions. They speak louder than words, after all. I am not defending the rapist for "getting it a bit wrong." Clear consent is the only type of consent that's worth having. A slurred "yeah sure, go for it" isn't really consent.

TL;DR - girls should try not to give off the wrong signals, but guys should never use those signals as an excuse.

(I realise this post is pretty hetero-focused. I apologise; I don't know enough about queer rape issues to be able to comment on them. If anyone does know of news articles, etc, I can read, that'd be good.)

Killing in the name (of conformity)

Funnily enough, writing this post, I am thinking of Jedward. Those awfully highly entertaining, just-plain-awful Irish boys from X Factor infamy.

I think of them because this post is to do with X Factor. Second, they are identical twins. Even though I write this largely independently (bar news sources, Daily Fail, etc), I have no doubt whatsoever that almost-identical copies of this post are out there, somewhere. (Minus blond quiffs, and hopefully not singing Ghostbusters).

So, what's been the fuss this week? X Factor is over, and so is Strictly. Finally we can stop hearing about these shows... or can we?

There's this thing called "Christmas Number One". It's like being the Number One single at any time of year, except it's at Christmas, so the sales are bigger (usually). There's also betting on who will be Number One, cos betting is fun.

For the past few years, the X Factor show has finished just in time for the single released by the winner to be Christmas Number One. Apart from the first series, every other series had got their Christmas Number One... well, except poor little Joe, winner of the latest series.

Joe was faced with the rage of the general public at Simon Cowell for taking away the thrill of a real Christmas Number One, and for ruining their telly with X Factor, Xtra Factor and his manufactured "stars". He also wears his trousers too high and his tshirts are a bit tight sometimes - I think people take this issue very seriously.

So, anyway. The song that won was fueled by a rage of its own - Rage Against The Machine. Four lovely boys from LA who got quite angry with The System and wanted to Fight It and get angry and write a good song about it.

The line that always causes contention is: "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!"

The thing is, RATM would have never won this Christmas rage without a good deal of conformity. It's all well and good for people to say "Fuck Simon! I'm buying my own choice of single, and not your cookie-cutter pop boy's Miley Cyrus cover drivel". What you get is Joe winning and random singles all over of the place getting one extra download.

What you need is a co-ordinated strike. Suspending your belief in a total anarchy to create an anarchy-lite of sorts.

Moral of the story: If you want to Fight The System effectively, you have to create your own. But, we knew that already.

That's not what the NHS is for!

You see quite a lot of these stories in the news, especially on slow news days. They are invariably of the sort:

"Little Jack needs 3 million dollars for high-tech brain surgery that will give him four extra years of life. Oh, why won't the NHS fund this? Jimmy is a human being, and therefore deserves all the life that we can give him."

The NHS works like this, as far as I can tell:

Once upon a time, things were a lot like the US, in terms of health care. If you were reasonably okay for money and you got sick, you could easily be bankrupted. If you were poor, you couldn't afford treatment, unless you were very lucky, and able to find treatment in one of the few establishments helping people with no money. If you were rich, life was as good as can be. At some point, the UK thought, "This isn't really quite right," and decided that everyone deserves a free minimum standard of health care for two reasons - one, because it makes us productive and generates wealth, creates equality of value of life, rich or poor, etc, and two, because it's a Nice Thing to do.

The key word here is "minimum standard". The reason for this is that the NHS has finite resources and oh-so-finite money supplies. If they could give absolutely everyone who needed it a liver and a bed, they would. But they can't.

A key example of people forgetting the NHS's purpose is that liver drug. You know, the one that gives advanced liver cancer patients an extra 12 months or so.

First of all, how much good is this to the patient? 12 months of lying in bed, too weak to do much more than that. I may be exaggerating, I may not be, but quality of life is an important factor in these sorts of life-prolonging-not-actually-curing sorts of drugs.

To be heartless for a second, if their quality of life is poor, then they can't exactly come back to join society, work, pay taxes and contribute back to the State that has given them the money to get better. However, the State isn't always heartless. It recognises that it's okay to let people not of immediate utility to use resources. Still, it's something to think of.

More pressing is the amount of money this treatment costs. How many organ transplants, hip replacements, open heart surgeries, stitches and eye drops can we fund with the amount we'd spend on one person having an extra 12 months of (not necessarily quality) life? I don't know the answer to this question. The question is merely here to highlight that there is SO MUCH that the NHS has decided is part of a minimum standard of care. With all these things that are deemed to be essential, we don't have a great deal of money left over for things which are borderline.

By having a "minimum standard" existing, it means that certain treatments are not considered essential enough for the State to fund. That's why you can't get your boobs Jordanized for free. However, life is pretty precious. It's so precious that something about "right to life" is one of those human rights thingies. That's what makes this so hard to judge. Is prolonging life worth any cost? Some may say yes. (These people clearly have never been Chancellor of the Exchequer, balancing the books of the whole nation, not just the ill bit.)

I've not ever had a relative denied treatment on the NHS because they deemed it to be too dear, or too risky, or too *something*, so, I guess I'd be far more emotional and irrational talking about this if I was invested.

Still, I feel that no matter where you draw the line with free healthcare, someone will always be on the wrong side of that line, and they will always be upset. And that is how the world works, kids.

So, when you are on the wrong side of the line, go ahead and raise money, ask politicians nicely, get funding from some creepy rich business tycoon, but don't go to the Daily Mail and say "The NHS should fund this all for me because, because, because!" That's not what's it's there for. Sorry.

Sad, and lucky.

Today, the things that make me feel sad and lucky are related to intelligence and homophobia.

I feel lucky that I am intelligent enough to have an interesting debate with people without relying on my own uninformed bigoted views. I'm able to change my mind almost entirely once proved wrong. I've never been a personal victim of homophobia (although my family's done a fairly good job of trying to rectify that...)

I feel sad that people are still homophobic, uneducated and unwilling to accept that some things are okay.

I was on Have Your Say today. I know, I know, what a horrible place to go. I read spEak You're bRanes, it's full of awful things that Daily Mail readers and interblag idiots like to say when they're not actually in front of people. So, after reading some angry statuses on Facebook about a particular debate on HYS, entitled "Should Uganda debate gay execution?" which had previously been called "Should homosexuals be executed?", to which the answer is YES, kill all the queers because they are awful. (The real answer is no, because queer people are people before being queer.)

There was a lot of "This is a ridiculous debate" comments, which was good. One went a little far, and suggested we pull aid out of Africa for having policies like that. There was a little bit of homophobic stuff on the board, but there were quite a few rejected comments, which suggests that people may have tried to post more.

My favourite comment of all suggested that homosexuality was the reason that Rome fell. Epic, epic win and fail.

So, where have you been?

I've been... around. Busy. Very busy.

Third year is supposed to be less busy, at least in terms of lectures. With 15 and 18 CATS per one-term module, instead of 12, hitting the same number of CATS as I did last year (give or take a couple) should mean I actually have more free time?

Well, not exactly. If your timetable includes four 9am starts, two days of 9am-6pm, and one until 5pm, it doesn't bring the biggest grin on your face. Luckily, my body's easily adjusted to "get to bed at 11, wake at 7:15", and the only side effect is that I wake up at about 8:30 at the weekends, instead of enjoying a lie in. Oh no, more productive weekends! :p

I've been really getting into doing Pride things. I've been to most of the Monday/Wednesday socials at the Duck, going to the Welcome Buffet, attending the OGM, and even putting in motions. We now have an Ethnic Minorities rep, and I've become That Person Who Actually Reads The Constitution, and it's always good to have one of those.

While the kitten's away, however, it seems that the mice have been playing - and not nicely, either. Thankfully, the threat of returning to a broken home has pretty much subsided, and the process of healing the rifts begins. M, D and Brother all went to Paris, and as far as I can tell, it went quite well.

At uni, there are freshers! Masses of them. Any time I see a cute one, I always get a twinge of "They look REALLY jailbaity", because most of them are just 18. I have some Maths kids, and I teach them how to converge sequences. I also have Pride kids, one of whom is on the exec already. My families tend to be quite exec-oriented; my last husband was Campaigns, my current hubby is Secretary, and out of my first brood came the current Bi Rep. Weird!

Generally, life is good. I've taken to being incredibly optimistic about pretty much everything. Even the stuff that's unjustifiably awful. The only thing that really gets me is the speed of the bloody internet. How fucking slow can it be? I've had dial-up that was faster than this!

I've decided to knit a sweater. The idea is that it will fit my skinny 14-year old brother (although, by the time it's actually done, he'd probably be my skinny 15-year old brother). It's a pretty shade of deep turquoise.

I still have the same boyfriend. We went on holiday to London. We ate dinner together on the bed, and watched The Truman Show. At some point, I gained a tractor beam (don't ask). I still think he's wonderful.

What more is to be said? I could say more, but I'll leave that to another post. Until next time, faithful reader.

Relationships.

Aren't they horrendously complicated? Not to mention messy, painful, and rather more like childbirth that one would like to admit (except you'd hope a relationship's length isn't measured in hours!)

Two of my friends are in a relationship, L and A. I knew they were long before today's Facebook status alerted me to the official happy news. They never told me, even went as far to obscure certain details so I wouldn't know, but somehow I just knew. Perhaps it's some hidden Girl Instinct I didn't know about.

I am happy for them. If there's anyone that can handle A, it's L (and vice versa). They're both emotionally fragile (in different ways), so hopefully they will look after each other.

However, L frequently blogs about A. Not just the kind of crap I write, about how I still have a partner who I love or want to bone, but the kind of stuff you ought to be telling your partner first, not the internet and all your friends. Shortcomings and whatnot. I assume that this means A doesn't have the address to the blog. This is fine, you're entitled to hide whatever you want or need to in a relationship. But... I just hope that L isn't scared to say to A that there are something things that could be improved on, and isn't just going to blog about them forever.

~~~

In other news, back at uni, and the summer holiday, once again, seems to have simply not existed. I feel slightly disconnected from debating, and I suppose getting back into the pattern might make me feel something again, but... I dunno. I don't go out drinking with them, and I am definitely not interested in pub crawls, and I feel like if I'm not in the exec, I'm not really an integral part of the society. I also feel like I'm at the fringes of Pride, despite being on the exec. Again, don't drink a lot, don't like clubs and dark places. I just like to sit, chat, and get to know a person's story. Given that most outgoing people at uni do love their drink, it's a little hard sometimes. I just don't want to drink as much as I used to. It's expensive, you lose hours of your memory, and I don't even need to go on.

Time to go downstairs, make some tasteh tasteh food!