When do the 12 days of Christmas start?

Today is the last day of November. By tradition, that means tomorrow is the first day of December.

December means Christmas. It also means New Year.
This means presents, and resolutions.

This also means the end of Movember. I must commend everyone that takes part, and the money they raise.
My boyfriend and I took part this year, though not to raise money. He grew his 'tache. I grew my leg hair.

COS I'M A FEMINIST, INNIT.

Wanna see?



It's crazy how actually patchy it is.

I'm going to shave now! :D

Is it Friday yet?

I find myself counting down the days to Friday. Then I get two days off, which aren't usually "off" as such, just "not at work". Then it's Monday again.

I have had such an issue with my mobile phone the last few days. I will report back at the end of the saga (if it ever ends) but I'm certainly not in the mood to talk about Phones4U right now.


Last Saturday, the 19th November 2011, I attended this march.
It was my first protest march. But it certainly will not be my last.
We walked from Temple Tube to King Charles Street, chanting.
Mostly it was a really good opportunity for my sister and I to catch up.
I felt very inspired by the march, although I admit I didn't understand all the arguments.
But I bought some Feminism books afterward so I can learn more.
And I am beginning to understand what being a Feminist means to me.

And I like that. That can only be good.

And Josie Long is excellent.

It's damn hard just to EXIST

I am having a huge amount of trouble with my self image at the moment. I am not wearing foundation but I am still worrying about my outfits. I took my toenail polish off for the first time in years last night. And I mean years. Well, okay, I have taken it it off before, but only in order to repaint. This time I took it off with no urge to repaint as soon as I had done.  But are things like, cutting and filing your nails, is that anti-feminist?

That is my problem. I feel like if I worry about my self-image, and my looks, then I am being anti-feminist.

I have been reading and learning for the last few weeks on lookism, and beauty and feminism, and I am under the impression that a woman should get where she wants to go without it being because of her looks. But does that mean she can't use her looks to help her get what she wants? If she is promoted simply because she is pretty, then surely she will go nowhere fast? But what if she is intelligent and makes no effort with her appearance? Will she even get promoted in the first place?

The more I research lookism, the more I realise how much rests on your appearance that shouldn't do, and the damage done by judging people. I've had bad self esteem for as long as I can remember. I still judge myself against other people. And I still judge other people. I am such a hypocrite in this respect. But I find myself simply commenting to myself on how someone looks. I saw today a woman standing on her phone at a tube station entrance, and she watched with a scowl as a girl in front of me walked past her. This girl in front of me was putting on a coat and hiking up her skinny jeans. Wasn't being mean, or giving her an evil look first. But this woman clearly didn't like the look of her.  "Don't like the look of". That's being lookist. Yes I suppose it is acceptable when you see a creepy man hanging about a bar, a dodgy mafia person who looks like he might shake you down - these are all stereotypes though and not strictly the truth so maybe it is not acceptable to think this.
"I don't like the look of this" judges a situation on your perception of it. And it is just as acceptable in today's society to judge a person on your perception of them.  So, should I make an effort to look good in the workplace?  Suppose all workplaces have a certain dress code (ours is Smart-Casual unless the bosses are seeing the big man, then it's Smart. Because he would look down on them if they didn't dress up to scratch.) We all judge people on what they wear. Is that lookist? Or is lookism when we judge people on their body type (there's fattist but not thinist) and their facial characteristics. Things they can't help. Or could help if they went to extreme measures (yes, an overweight or obese person could restrict their diet. But some people do just have naturally curvy physiques.) This puts lookism in the same '-ist' category as ageist, sexist or racist. But can you draw parallels with lookism and racism?!  So here is my feminist dilemma (because lookism is a hugely feminist issue, for the obvious reason that women are judged for their looks FAR more than men): should I paint my nails, or is that anti feminist? Should I straighten my hair, or is that anti feminist? Should I wear more war paint aka make up, or is that anti feminist? Am I betraying my sex by wearing foundation/a skirt/high heels/straight hair? Or are these just ways to empower myself? I am reading the book Beauty Bias for work by a woman quoted in this article about make up.  I think it might just come down to personal preference. I don't want to wear foundation at the moment, but I wouldn't be adverse to wearing it again in the future. I hate high heels, even if I "should" wear them because I'm short. Skirts are okay. I prefer to have straight hair, though it's a major hassle to do, but easier to deal with when it's done. And I don't much like my natural hair.
Bloody society, for making it so damn hard just to EXIST.

Things I've seen lately

This article about Kristen Stewart wearing trainers at a premiere. If an older actress had done it, they'd probably be vilified her. 

Also, this article about a girl who lost loads of weight. " "I feel beautiful" she is finally able to say". Hmph. Not sure how I feel about that.

And finally, this article about single women. This is how I imagined my life would be before I met my current boyfriend. This is how my life will be if something were to happen that meant the loss of my current boyfriend. I do love him, but I envy their lives. Although I can't help but notice there's a tinge of mockery in this article. Perhaps because that is the way The Daily Mail writes, or because I expect there to be. I am probably (or probably not) just reading too much into it.

(Sorry for them all being The Daily Mail. For some reason they report on EVERYTHING.)

Keep Calm, eh?

I was almost in a bad mood all day today, because I get into work and I get a phone call from the repair centre at which my phone is currently residing, the second time in a month.
"The engineers have found no fault with your phone."

I'm making it up, apparently.
She gives me the option of getting them to test it again, or have it back.
I requested it back.
She did at one point, I think, say that they couldn't test for a certain fault, then it wouldn't come up in their testing.
Eh?! Well yeah, but surely they can test for every kind of fault?

I'm in two minds.

I want my phone back. I want it to work. I want to live happily ever after for the next 12 months until I can finally upgrade the damn thing. It's no secret I don't like it much, but I prefer to this.

However, I want it to not work again, so I can take it back and get a different handset. I mean, how is this acceptable service? I'm paying for internet I can't use because my spare phone doesn't have wifi capability. Or 3G. It doesn't even have 2G. I have one game, which I have completed. Three times now. And beside all that, this phone is CLEARLY faulty, and yet I feel like I'm making it up?!

When I get it back, I'm going to carry my camera with me everywhere. So if/when it breaks again, I can take photos and videos and PROVE that I am not a batty woman, and actually, the Sony Ericsson Xperia X10 Mini Pro (why so long?) is not a decent phone.

Amusingly, the lady at the repair centre said they mostly get a lot of Blackberry's. I think when technology should be so far advanced, it's not really okay to have to have insurance in case you need your phone repairing. Because your phone will break, it seems like that is just inevitable. I reiterate: when technology is this far advanced, why is that the case?

This is how D.W.Griffith would react.



It's not very clear, but this is when a soldier chops off an enemy's head in Intolerance. It cheered me up greatly.

Brief Encounter

I love my boyfriend. In fact, I love him so much I might just be with him forever and ever until I die. If he'll have me. But despite this, or maybe because of this, well actually more despite this, there is something thrilling in stolen glances from somebody you think is cute.  What I feel for my boyfriend goes beyond physical attraction. Yes, I love to look at him, I think he is hot and handsome and scrummy etc etc. But sometimes you can stare so long at the roses you miss the tulips or daisies that are dotted around nearby. I use this analogy because roses are supposedly the most superior flower, or they're always perceived and conveyed that way. Whereas tulips and daisies are not.  So today on the train home a young guy was sitting on a seat across the aisle. He was cute. He was a worker of some sort (i.e. he had paint streaked jogging bottoms). I looked at him when he sat down, and I thought I saw him look at me too. This is always dangerous, because then, even when you don't want to, you get caught up in the "can I catch them looking?" game.  Anyway, I did. A few times.  And then he got off a few stops before me. Not before I had moved to the seat directly opposite him, so that I had a bit more freedom than next to the larger guy who looked slightly like a hybrid of Wall Street and The Godfather. When the cute worker guy got up, he looked at me before he got up. I know this because I saw he was making motions to get up and so I looked at him. And he looked through the window at me when he walks along the platform. I know this also because I was looking out the window to see if he would look at me again. And that is the sum total of my life with cute worker guy. And that is nice. Because I know nothing, this will fade as a memory, and tomorrow when I see my boyfriend I will love him just as much, if not more, than I do today.
I have had soooo many of these brief encounters over the years, and I enjoy them. Looks can say what words can't. Looks can say what you don't dare verbalise. Looks can say things that you don't want to say because actually what would be the point in saying them? You're sat on a train, no one else is good looking, it was almost inevitable that the two of you exchange glances.   Such is life. C'est la vie. 
**

Today I wore grey jeans for the first time in weeks, months even.  Today I was also slightly more creative and on the ball and confident. Coincidence? I'm going to test this theory next week sometime.  Also today, I heard someone yawn really loudly on the train. It amused me.

**

This is the reason I don't write very regularly. I haven't got enough to say.

Is it cos I is Ugly?

Today I came across this.
This amused/entertained/fascinated me for a while. I'm going to post on there for work. But I thought I would share it with you first.
They also have this variation.

Another thing that fascinated me was this entry on Eat the Damn Cake on sluttiness. I touched on it in my last post, when I was discussing feminism - well touched on it to the extent I asked "is dressing slutty a feminist statement?"
I looked, and still look to some degree, on my sluttiness in the past and see it as me exploiting my sexuality and using it to my advantage. I had fun, I was in control. Sometimes I ponder whether I was just trying to boost my self-esteem and make myself feel better. But I have never great been at commitment, and I'd started down a road that meant commitment would be ever harder afterwards (I found this out when I tried to commit in my 3rd year of university, and my history proved a massive problem for my boyfriend). But we all do a lot of stuff to boost our self-esteem, so I'm okay with it if that's what I was doing. I am what I am. I did what I did. Nothing's gonna change that.

**

I finished reading The Picture of Dorian Gray. It's surprisingly relevant to what I'm researching at work - the halo effect.
I enjoyed it immensely. I love classic books. I finished Tess of the d'Urbervilles last month, and loved Great Expectations earlier this year. I can't remember the last fiction book that I thought was written really well.

The Search for Spock...

The best thing about my job is that I get to learn about new things. For example, the Eurozone, British Transport Police, Saudi Arabia.  The worst thing about this job is focusing on a topic that really hits home with you and you can't seem to do anything about it.
The representation of women in the media has forever plagued me, but researching the topic of beauty and the media for my job has opened my eyes. I'm not alone in my opinion. In fact there are people out there who have even stronger views than I do, and are calling for change.
This includes people such as Kat Fridkis, at Eat the Damn Cake, who is a delight to speak to and learn from.

But this has made me decide that I need to do more to help other women and spread the word to challenge the way we are advertised to, and used in advertising. The problem is that the beauty and fashion industries are convinced that products only sell when thin and beautiful women advertise them. The fact is EVERYONE is beautiful in their own way, and I would be more likely to buy a product if it was advertised by "ordinary" women (the Dove adverts are a case in point, but while they do some great work - Onslaught video, Self Esteem fund - they are a flawed case in point - "real women have real curves" - what about the women who don't have curves?!).
What I'm also finding is that alot of the anger directed at how the media represents women is tied inextricably with feminism. I have always classed myself as feminist, but a passive feminist, if there is such a thing. I refuse to marry, I will not have kids. But I don't actively preach (is preach the right word?) about the issues feminist are fighting for. Perhaps because I don't actually know... Are there really the men-hating feminists? Is dressing slutty a feminist statement? What about sleeping around?

Almost 5 months ago, my mum made the most feminist move of her life - she asked for a divorce. And putting aside the anger and the hurt that this action (an agreement from my father) has caused, my mum became a feminist in deciding that she wasn't going to put up with my dad's dirty washing on the bedroom floor anymore. She didn't want to pick up after him, or make him dinner. Go mum!
But then she got false nails. She's had her eyebrows dyed and her moustache bleached. And I don't see how those actions could free her from the oppressor that is my father and her boring marriage.

I want to be feminist. But does being feminist mean using my looks to get me power? Or does it mean working so hard and making sure my looks don't count? Does it mean working inside the system to get to the top to make a difference, or fighting it every step of the way?

I'm becoming more aware, and more accepting of myself as a woman, and as a result, I believe I will be more aware and accepting of myself as a person. I hope for a day when my self-esteem does not plummet just because I get a new spot on my chin. I'm just hoping that my other obstacle, the headache obstacle, doesn't hold me back.

Negotiating

I haven't given up my search for illumination!
I have just been busy working full time since May. Also I got a boyfriend, and he takes up a lot of time haha.

I plan to write soon about my enlightenment in terms of feminism and identity. But in the mean time, I have been writing about experimenting with cosmetics (or lack of them) over here.

And I found this today.

"The only shame is to have none"

~ Blaise Pascal


I experienced three types of shame at the weekend, and all very different.

The first two came really within moments of each other. I felt the shame of not fitting in with my old Uni friends. Not drinking as much, anywhere near as much, as they were. It made me feel stupid, that I couldn't or didn't want to drink like they could and did.
And then within moments I actually felt shame from being with them. But not specifically them, but with people who were plastered. In the club, the dingy and not-that-great-even-though-it's-had-another-refurb club, I saw one guy (who my friends knew) get kicked out (most likely for doing drugs). He was propelled forward out the side door by 3 or 4 bouncers, and then a minute later another one followed with the shoe he'd left behind.
And not even 5 minutes before I had stepped out of the loo to find a young girl sitting on a step having been sick all over the carpet in front of the toilets. She hadn't quite made it, and she looked awful, barely keeping herself up. And the lad that was with her didn't look like he really wanted to be there anymore.

My friend just told me how in Revolutions in Sutton they were offering free Jagerbombs for people who took off their underwear. (35 pairs were received. They applied the same offer to anyone who could bring a condom to the bar. Zero.)

So the two types of shame I felt on Saturday night has become a general shame for the youth of today. For the "wasters" who think it's okay to drink for 5 hours straight, shot after shot, strawpedo'd alcopops.
Why is this ok? Why do they not understand they are messing with their bodies, and indeed their lives? Do they know and just not care? Is life really that bad that you need to get blotto every weekend to forget it? Because life will certainly be much worse the next morning when they have a bad head and are £50 poorer.
Even though I have friends who are like this, and I love them dearly despite their abuse of the substance, it makes me despair of my generation, and the ones coming up behind us.

The other shame I felt at the weekend, came on Sunday, on the tube home. I had just managed to get a seat. I had my music in, and my book out.
And a homeless man came on the tube begging. He had a crutch too. I just heard through my music something about 'getting enough money together before London Bridge for the shelter', he was 'sorry to ask' and did we have 'any spare change or food'. And then he said 'if not, I hope you all have a safe journey' and then stood there. And of course it was the longest ride between Angel and Old Street or wherever, and then he got off the carriage and into the next one.
When he got on and started talking, the bloke next to me shifted awkwardly in his seat. That's how I realised he was in the carriage. But I only glanced at him, and then I stared at my book. I surreptitiously glanced at other people in the carriage, but no one else was looking at him. They were looking down, or out into space, anywhere but at him. I didn't see anybody get out any change. Or food. I had no food on me, but I had change. It would have only taken a minute to get it out and give him some. But I didn't. I felt ashamed of myself. The whole time he was in the carriage, and afterwards, I felt ashamed of myself still. And the carriage shared in that. There was communal shame, we were all ashamed that we weren't giving him any change or food. And in a way I think we were ashamed that our country has people who need to beg.
If we knew we would feel like that, why didn't we give him something?

Because we knew it would go away.

And it has gone away. I still do feel ashamed but nowhere near as much as when I was faced with that situation. I do sometimes give to homeless people, and buskers. But cynicism has made me do it less frequently. I walked home from York station one time and chucked some silver into a homeless man (everyone knows him, he has glasses and sort of looks like Professor Burp from Chessington World of Adventures), and a middle-aged gentleman next to me said "He'll probably earn more than you will in a day, he's got a good spot there."
Will the penny, or the 5pence, or even the pound I drop into his hat or on his blanket really go to drugs? Or alcohol? Or cigarettes? Or will they spend it on a cup of coffee to keep them warm. Or a sandwich?
Maybe this is something I need to investigate further.

Routine Structure

I can't stand when people talk in the cinema. And that certainly makes me a hypocrite, I know, since I do it. But I don't have full-on conversations. I also whisper. And most times, I turn my phone off. At the very, very least, I put it on vibrate, and usually, I turn it on silent completely so not even a vibrate can interfere.
I saw Black Swan this evening, and it was the one film I have seen recently that I least expected to have annoying people in the cinema. My friend and fellow cinema-goer commented on this as soon as the film finished. I suppose it's our narrow-minds, but why would a bunch of ill-educated chavs wants to see Black Swan? Well, I don't know they're ill-educated. But they were late for the film, they talked like they were black when they were white, and laughed at the masturbation scenes. Maybe ill-educated, definitely immature.

*Rant over *

Lately I have been pondering a great deal on structure and routine. A friend of mine I went to lunch with said that she had had a lot of days off work, and this sudden change in/lack of routine was probably why she felt a bit miserable. I can understand this. I don't like not being busy, for a start, which is why my To Do lists are endless, and I don't particularly like not having a routine. I have learned to be quite flexible in changes to said routine. But I don't like when I don't have one at all.
This need for structure permeates my working and personal life. I like knowing when I'm working, I like knowing what needs to be done. It's the same in my personal life. I like having things planned in advance, I'm not hugely spontaneous, but on Saturday I surprised myself by just grabbing some DVDs and driving over to a friend's house even though I'd already been up to London that day, and he'd invited me round only 2 hours before (I had to get home from London first!).
The need for structure is why I have things written in my filofax, my work diary, on my wall planner, and sometimes even in my phone. It's the reason I have made 10 New Year's Resolutions, and January goals too.

So far I am doing okay with my resolutions & goals. I have achieved all but one of my January goals, but this weekend, as my last opportunity, will be the time I do it. I've started working towards some resolutions, and not others. I'm feeling positive about all of them though.

I don't tend to get things done if I don't have goals and structure. Sure I'd still do things, but they'd be just that, things. I'd watch films, play games, maybe read. I'd probably eat more. I like to be so busy I don't have time to eat much (that's not a very healthy attitude I'm aware but I always do eat, I get hungry quite easily). I just wouldn't do things that helped me, that helped me develop or grow. I wouldn't get things done that would get me anywhere.

And I want to go somewhere.