Replying To Your Dilemmas With My Sexuality

It may seem odd that, being me, my all time favourite thing to be asked is:

"So are you really a lesbian?"

Oh my I'm-an-atheist-so-not-really-mine God. I love being asked this. Because the answer is yes. Yes, I am definitely a lesbian. I like making out with girls and everything. To be honest, I'll quite happily make out with boys as well, but there's a high chance I'll get bored quite quickly, and wonder off to make myself a sandwich. No sandwiches for boys. I'm not that much of a walking stereotype. 

So, yeah, I really am a lesbian. It's usually always slightly drunk, straight boys who end up asking me this, and there's a series of follow up questions that they go with, which make the initial conversation even sweeter.

1. "But I don't get that, I mean, how can that happen?"

Ok, so grammatically this makes no sense, but I see where you're coming from. I have explained it like this in the past; (this only works if you are a genuine straight male). Right, so you fancy girls, and want to touch them, and marry them. You do not want to do that to boys. It is exactly the same for me. I know this is hard to grasp - Is girl, therefore must like boys?! - but no, trust me, I like girls just as much as you do.

2."So you don't. like, fancy anyone?"

No, baby no, of course I fancy people. I just don't fancy boys. I fancy people who are the same gender as me. And Brian Cox. But apparently, fancying the same gender doesn't count in your head. Only fancying people of the opposite gender counts. Babe, that's not how fancying works. Sorry to burst your bubble. I realize this must be very hard for you to come to terms with. Yes, I definitely fancy people, but just because they are girls, doesn't mean they don't count.

3. "I bet I can turn you."

This doesn't even deserve punctuation in it's answer: AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA no baby no you can't that's not how sexuality works you cannot somehow wave your magic penis wand and make me like men (especially now you've said that) if you made out with a guy you would probably not magically turn gay now leave me alone before I punch you in the balls and drive away in my big lesbian pick up truck.

It's ok. I realise you are a little drunk, and confused. It's probably my fault in the end, anyway. I don't own a single plaid shirt, which is probably why you're getting confused. Soz mate. 

PS Those are all genuine, word for word quotes said to me by confused, drunk, straight boys. Thank you for having the time to listen to me trying to explain this. Thank you for shutting up when I started shouting. 

Some other stuff what's going on:

My friend Lauren makes YouTube videos, go check them out!

I got a GoodReads account

Also I'm thinking of starting a side blog for my creative writing? I don't know. Thoughts please.

Coming To Terms With Class

All my life, I have said that I don't know what class I am. I have said that since my parents are divorced, my Dad's social standing does not apply to me. I have, on occasion, and when I was much younger, played up how much physical labor my family partakes in on a weekly basis. I admit, our family budget does not extend to posh cheese and any wine made before roughly five years ago, but it's not like we've ever had to choose between meat and heating. Well, I certainly haven't, but this may have something to do with the fact that I don't eat meat. That point may be void.
Even so, I do own Cath Kidson bedding. It was given to me by my father's friend, but none the less, my duvet is currently eggshell blue, and covered in roses.
So, here I am, for the first time in my life, standing up and admitting: I am middle class.
No you all have to say it as well - assuming that it applies to you.
The majority of people I know are middle class. In fact, I'm pretty sure everyone I know is middle class. And I don't think I've ever met anyone who actively admits to being so. In fact, as my media teacher said last year - "If you don't think you're middle class, you're probably middle class." And he has a very good point. No one wants to admit that they're middle class. No one wants to admit to having a degree education, being able to pay the bills on time, and being able to buy nice clothes on a whim.
I think this is because, for some reason, in the UK, we seem to like complaining. The middle class really have very little to really complain about. I'm not one of those people who goes around screaming "YOU'RE WHITE, CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE, BITCH!", but I do often think to myself, "Yeah, you can't go out this weekend, but still, you ate three square meals today."
I think also people don't like admitting to being middle class (I nearly wrote male class, tee hee hee) because of the 'reputation' that goes with it. The wine-drinking, guardian-reading, politics-discussing reputation. Well balls to that. I like wine. I like the Guardian, and I like politics. I also like Radio 4, purchasing tea cups, and scowling at people on trains. I don't know which I am more; middle class, or middle aged. I have a niggling feeling that people feel that if we admit to being middle class, people will think we are boring, and angry. Of course we're boring and angry, we're British. Personally, I have become quite fond of being boring and angry - I can shout at Gorge Osborne on telly and no body cares. (Obviously this stereotypes does not apply to everyone... nah, come on, who are we kidding?)
My point is, I think we should start to actually admit that some of us may just be middle class, and embrace it. It's a blessing. I admit, some of us are much more middle class than others - for example, I live in a house that has no straight walls, and quite a small bath. I know some people who have only straight walls, and more than one large-type baths. With separate showers. However, at least I live in a house, and I have a bath.
Be thankful for being middle class, and stop being such a dick for pretending you're not. Embrace the films with subtitles, and cheese that smells of feet. Count your blessings (don't check your privilege).
My second point is that I'm going to wait till morning to post this. I had quite a lot of wine at book club, and drunk me is not to be trusted. Shut up. I'm 18. And middle class.

Sober, mid morning me thinks all of these point are valid. She has also realized that she needs to stop tweeting Brian Cox in the middle of the night, tell him how happy he makes her. Oh dear. 

Dear The Tories, We Don't Burn Protestants Any More

So, roughly three minutes ago, I watched a report on the news about how parliament will vote on whether or not gay people will be 'allowed' to get married. Ah, those crazy gays. They'll want the vote next.
So, apparently, a lot of Tories are getting very upset, and refusing to support this idea, or even leaving the party,  because they think that supporting gay marriage will make them loose the next election, as it goes against the "public's view of the institution or marriage". (Isn't that a horrible term? Institution or marriage? Makes it sound like a hospital mad house. Not that I'm insinuating anything.) CLEARLY IT DOES NOT. The Yougov poll in December found that 55% of British people support same-sex marriage. If you're like me, and terrible at maths, then that's more than half. That's the MAJORITY. HOW DOES THAT NOT TELL YOU ANYTHING? According to one Tory party member, the 'institution of marriage' (ugh) is the "union between a man and a woman, who will hopefully go on to raise children". 
Which kind of makes me want to drill into my skull.
IT IS NOT THE 1800'S ANY MORE. I genuinely don't understand how the contents of one's pants changes how 'valid' your love for another human being is? And has anyone told the Tories that gay people, can in fact, have children? It's mad world, I know. Besides, I'm pretty sure the need to have children went out of the window when people stopped being executed for not being Catholic. Which was quite a long time ago. I know the Tory party has a bit of a rep for being old fashioned, but that might just be pushing it. 
David Cameron, at least, seems to be rather happy about the idea of same-sex marriage, which I rather appreciate. I'm not sure if this is because he's A) genuinely quite a nice person, B) really wants the gay vote, or C) he and Clegg have a happy announcement coming up.
A member of the Tory party, who is one of the 25 who signed a petition to push back the vote for same-sex marriage, told the BBC that "It's not about being anti-gay." Well. Hmm. See, there are two problems with this. One - if you were pro-gay, you probably wouldn't be threatening to resign unless the vote was pushed back, and two - if you didn't really have an opinion about gay marriage, well, you still probably wouldn't be threatening your resignation.
I realize I may be a little biased on this matter. I would quite like to have a wife at some point though. And, y'know, be able to call her my 'wife', not my 'partner'. That's a lie, I'd love a partner, but only if it's followed by the words "in crime". I just hate how some people who are no relation to me, get to sit around and decide whether or not it will be legal to marry someone I love. Is it really that important? I don't think I'm asking all that much, really. I kind of get the feeling that, if you don't believe in gay marriage, and you try to stop it from happening, it's a little bit like how vegans like shouting at people who eat meat. And no one ever listens to vegans. Y'see?

So no, I'm not best pleased with the Tories at the moment of course. Don't worry, I'm still very much in love with Boris, it's just the rest of them that bother me. I apologies for any hideous mistakes, I'm not entirely up to date on political terms. 
Please read a review of the Yougov poll here.

This Is Why I Loath The Daily Mail

So last week the Daily Mail ran an article on the teen book trend of 'sick-lit'. 'Sick-lit' being books that have some themes of self harm, cancer, depression, and death. Covers quite a wide range, really. 
If I may interrupt for just one second: AAGGHH. Just a little pre-stress scream, before I go and re-read the article. I suggest you do the same. You'll need a good pre-stress scream before you read the article. 
Now, understand that one of my favorite hobbies is going on the Daily Mail's website, and crying over it's own, specialized brand of stupidity, but I think this rather pushed the boat out. It's an almost perfect combination of the Mail's general opinions of 'Clever people are scary' and 'books are for weirdos'. I looked at the comments on this post, expecting a lot of outraged mumsnet goers, crying over their babies, but I was rather pleased with the mob screaming a rather loud "Get a grip."
I first heard of the article in a tweet for Maureen Johnson (@maureenjohnson), a very well respected young adult author, and good friend of John Green (realjohngreen), who's book, The Fault In Out Stars, the Mail seemed to find particular joy in ripping apart, and spoiling. 
The general message of the article is "reading will break your children, due to all these IMMORAL BOOKS ABOUT DEATH THAT ARE NOW VERY FASHIONABLE". Ooh, dear. 
For a start, I'd just like to back up The Fault In Our Stars. It's an incredible book, which, AMAZINGLY, has some themes outside of cancer. Like, y'know, love. And triumph over hardship. Good, nice messages, and proof that sometimes you do have to fight for love, and that life can be hard, but it's worth it in the end. Things that would want my non-existent children to know, to be honest. 
So, yeah, article. "Children's book expert Amanda Craig is among those concerned about these books. She has been sent about 12 teen sick-lit books over the past year, but she feels so strongly she will not review them." Not that I want to judge, but if she won't review them, then I'm not sure she's a very good expert. I've read quite a few of the books mentioned in the article, and they're really not that bad. Apart from Red Tears, which was, if anything, boring. So I apologize if I'm inclined to not trust Ms Craig's opinion. I may trust her more of she  actually had one. 
But then on a rather different scale, there's, "When the Mail approached Penguin, the firm declined to make a statement..." Good. Hopefully with a muttered, "Piss off." 
I'll leave you to take your own stance on the article. Just know that if you agree with it, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.

A Real Grown Up Conversation About Armpit Hair

OK, come on then, sit down. It's time we had a Grown Up Conversation. I try and not talk about gender politics too much, but tough, my blog, I'll write what I damn well like. So. Grown Up Conversation.
OK, one quick funny first. NT and I were looking at the website of a Berlin sex club which Lady Gaga once took Caitlin Moran to. It has an event called 'Filthy Farm'. The description for this event was simply 'FARMER'. This is simultaneously the most and least worrying description on the website. 
So, Conversation. I want to talk about hair. No, not head hair, or vagina hair, before you start going on. You're just putting your own filth in now. No, I want to talk about armpit hair. 
You just flinched, didn't you? Don't deny it, I can tell. 
So, long story short, if you are a woman/girl/lady/drag queen, I do not care if you have pit hair. I do not think it makes you any more or less of a woman. I don't think that it makes you 'masculine', or dirty. I think if someone really cares that much about whether or not you shave your armpits, they really need to reconsider their life choices. 
A lot of people recently have been talking about vagina hair, and the two different parties on the topic seem to be either 'you should shave it, it makes you prettier to men', or 'you don't need to shave, it's a waste of time and makes you look like a twelve year old'. Personally, I'm with the second group. I don't really care if you shave your lady bits or not, and I don't think it's my place to tell you what to do, I just don't see why everyone seems so fussed about it. 
The whole lady shaving thing kicked off with legs, somewhere in the twenties. A company thought  "Hey, the birds are starting to get their pegs out, how can we make a bit of cash off the back of this?" and hence, the leg razor was born. Armpits were the next to fall, and vaginas (vaginae) came quickly after, succumbing to the wishes of the lady razor. It literally is nothing more than a marketing ploy, that somehow managed to crate a social taboo. I remember a while ago, Cosmo ran an article where they dared a journalist to go a month without shaving her pits. She reported that if she raised her arm in a club to summon the bartender, he would flinch. All I have to say to him is grow up. Men do not shave their pits, and no one cares. Why should it be such a social boundary for a woman to occasionally say, "No, not now, I'd rather watch Eastenders than scrape a very sharp piece of metal over my skin at the moment".  
I admit, I do shave my armpits. Of course I do. I go to secondary school. Not shaving my armpits would be like wandering around school with a huge 'kick me' sign on my back. But instead of being stuck to my back, it would be nailed to my forehead, and instead of saying 'kick me', it would say 'please bash my face in with a hammer'.
Two of my biggest role models are Amanda Palmer, and Louise Brealey. Both very talented women, and both massive feminists, and both very, well... feminine. Amanda does not shave her armpits. She appears in nearly all of her music videos half naked, makeup on, and armpits hairy. And she doesn't look disgusting. She just looks strong, and a little bit sexy. Louise Brealey is currently appearing as Helen of Troy, in a play called The Trojan Women. In one scene, she has to appear naked. She wrote an article for The Times, talking about how much it terrified her, to go on stage in front of a hundred people, night after night and drop her towel to the floor. She also wrote that to help herself, she grew out her armpit hair. The feeling that she didn't have to follow the beauty ideals of society made her more confident. 
And this is what I'd like to impart to you, whomever may be reading this. You do not have to have a perfectly round arse to be sexy, and neither do you need to have naked armpits, or stick glitter to your vag. Strength is sexy. Promise. 

Please Stop Force Feeding Me Red Wine, I Can Feel My Kidney's Melting

I am almost certainly not going to see The Hobbit. I realize that this post may get me more hate than anything I will ever have to say on gender politics (or get me killed), but I feel that I need to put this out there. I am almost certainly not going to see The Hobbit. 
I never did the Lord Of The Rings phase as a child. Most of the people I know got into the books around the age of five, and never came out again. At my primary school, there was an after school club dedicated to Lord Of The Rings War Hammer  run by one of the year five boys. Every Thursday, three girls and four boys would bring in all of the models and scenery that they had made at home and spend an hour rolling several dice, to decide which character would die first. I used to try and work out the real life trajectory of the elves bows and arrows, to see of they would actually wound any of my class-mates, on the off chance that they suddenly came to life.  
I did, briefly, attempt to read the books some time last year. I borrowed my step-dads copy of all three books in one, and had a real go at the first one. I gave up. The book now makes a very handy door stop.
Truth be told, The Hobbit is just another tick on the long list of things that Things That Society Thinks I Like Because I'm A Bit Of A Nerd, But I secretly Hate (OK, terrible list name, I know.) It includes things like Star Wars, Ghost Busters, and red wine (I have no idea how people like red wine. It tastes like alcoholic cat piss that's been poured over coal.)
These are the things that I sort-of-pretend to like when talking to someone I just met, and am trying to impress, and will later sheepishly admit that I've never really had all that much to do with them. People then end to scoff and say something along the lines of, "Don't be silly, everyone likes red wine. You just haven't tried enough of it. You're a freak if you don't like it." and then they force feed me red wine, leading to metaphorical liver failure and a mental breakdown. 
So I'm not even going to try this time. I do not like The Hobbit. I have tried it, I did not enjoy it.  Deal with it. I will not go on about how much I dislike it outside of this blog post, that's just rude. But likewise, please do not go on about how broken I am for not liking it. That's also rude. Rude. There's a song that goes along the lines of "It's OK to not like things/it's OK but don't be a dick about it". Likewise, it's OK to like things, just leave me out of it please thank you very much. I've tried The Hobbit, and Star Wars, and Ghost Busters, and they did nothing for me. To end, if I may, with a quote from Daniel Radcliffe, "I tried, and therefore no one can criticize me."