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Showing posts with label me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label me. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
100th Post: A Look Back (and Forward)
Well, here it's finally come . . . my 100th post! And I have no idea what I could write that would befit the occasion.Ever since I started this blog in March (gosh, has it only been nine months?), I've reviewed books and toys and porn, compiled various lists, informed you to nice offers, filled heads with countless dirty ditties, asked questions to which I have no answers,
I've strived to write posts that are not, as a creative writing teacher once described it, literary masturbation (his words: "It's fun and you like doing it, and people who love you might appreciate it, but everyone else just kind of thinks it's boring and maybe a little gross"). Although I've said before that I'd keep writing with or without an audience, the fact that people appear to be reading my blog means I want to offer something. Things could change, but I know that, at least in the near future, I won't be the kind of blog to break news (I'll leave that to AVN) or feature interviews and the like. Reposting links always feels like blatant stealing from other, better and more well-trafficked blogs. I don't want to say the obvious ("Oh, homophobia sucks." or "Censorship of free speech is a problem!"). I want, in other words, to offer something that can't be found elsewhere, uniquely me, and worth somebody's time. I don't know if I've done a good job of sticking to these principles, but it continues to be my goal.
Arianna Huffington was on The Daily Show a couple of nights ago, and she and Jon Stewart clashed [in a friendly manner, of course] about blogs, and I have to say that her words somewhat revitalized me for a new year and another round of a hundred blogs. Whether I'm blogging about cheese (oh, Arianna, I love cheese, too!), politics, or sex, I feel it's important and rewarding for me. I'm putting the video here so that you can see it (and also because I have a major girl crush on Arianna).
So look forward to more posts, hopefully a bit more in-depth and maybe even a bit more personal, as I'll have a bunch more time not taken up by school to pursue dating, sex, activism, and all that fun stuff. And maybe even delving into technical upgrades, yikes!
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Two Roads
Deep personal revelations- or rather, confusion- after the jump.
I’m at a little bit of a loss. By December, assuming that I don’t punk out and fail all of my classes (which, considering my levels of procrastination lately, isn’t all that much of a stretch), I will be graduated with a B.A. in Linguistics. I will have spent four years (plus one pesky extra semester) in college, will have spent God knows how much of my parents’ money, and . . . may have nothing to show for it.
Don’t get me wrong; I love linguistics. Language has always captivated me. I know that I like it because I can go on and on about how English doesn’t have any voiced stops, not really- can you believe it?- and other people try to politely change the subject. Despite my hatred of most sciences (I loved the math behind chemistry and the cool explanations of biology but detested the requisite experimentation in each), I found an academic branch that adheres to the scientific method but doesn’t require peering through microscopes. I even managed to allay my parents’ fears and find the sub-branch that would give me a steady job (i.e. teaching). I’ve gotten just a little bit (not enough) over my intense nervousness when speaking in front of large groups, and heck, I think I could manage to teach and grow pretty good at it. I have lots of ideas, and, in honor of delusions of grandeur, I still fantasize about publishing some field-altering research on second language acquisition, becoming an acknowledged expert who can teach the bigwigs in Washington about what sort of education would best suit the bilingual children of our nation, or even going so far as to open and run my own language school, implementing my highly individualized and principled methodology to great renown.
I should be happy.
And yet, there’s something tugging at me. I’ve struggled this semester to keep up with my schoolwork, not because of my general laziness and procrastination (well, okay, that, too), but because I’m busier writing blogs, consuming and producing erotic content of various types, and generally keeping up on the online world of sex, sexuality, porn, the queer movement, and so on and so on. If I had to list my passions, so-called ‘sexology’ would come out leaps and bounds ahead of linguistics. I obviously give it priority in my life; it excites me intellectually and brings out a fiery passion you just can’t get when debating whether we really do have Chomsky’s language acquisition devices in our brains. I’ve always wanted to change the world, to make an impact, to have some weight and sway. I still long to publish a book, to see it on library shelves and know that people are reading it and my ever-opinionated thoughts are being disseminated for discussion and contemplation. I want a sexy advice column. I want to review sex toys. I want to write professional erotica. I want to help make queer porn, the kind of porn I want to see. I want to open sexuality centers. I want to lobby and protest and march for gay rights. I want to subvert the system. I want to influence public policy about sex education. I want to help make sex work safe. I want to do so much. I just don’t know if doing it on the side would be satisfying enough. Aren’t there some sort of unspoken rules about teachers not doing such controversial things? (Not that I want to shy away from controversy, but I do tend to like keeping a job).
It’s interesting . . . my best friend and I are both graduating, and our struggles in regards to the future eerily mirror one another’s. We went to school together, and she now has a completed B.A. in deaf education, something she has decided she doesn’t want to do (much to her mother’s horror). Much in the same way that I quietly went from a naïve little freshman who barely knew she was queer (much less about the big world of porn and sex radicalism) to the person I am today, she was undergoing her own transformation, from a naïve little freshman whose church work was mainly self-contained to a sophisticated, globally-thinking urban minister and missionary, fighting on the fronts of social/racial justice, poverty, and environmentalism. Her dedication, her passion, and her zeal continue to amaze me- and inspire me. I used to feel less important in my own passions, as if what I was doing/feeling couldn’t be as important as hers. I’ve since gained a lot more confidence and, no doubt due to our fascinating discussions and the help of the very provocative book “That’s Revolting!”, learned the intersections where the two meet (even if we would take different paths to try to better the life of a prostitute- me fighting for rights and decriminalization, she for proselytizing them out of the trade). But where she and I differ is in her utter devotion. She wants to throw herself into the work, regardless of condemnation from her friends and family or any care to money. Maybe I’m greedy, and maybe I care too much what others think (although I’ll argue it’s a lot harder selling “sex work advocacy” than “urban ministry” to your family), but I want some steadiness in my life, some financial guarantees. And what with any sex/porn-advocacy job at the very least usually freelance and, in today’s economy, perhaps nonexistent, I just don’t know that I could throw myself full-heartedly into it, confident I could wring a salary and a life from it.
I take a little solace in knowing that I have time. There’s still either a Masters or a teaching credential waiting before I can legally assume the title of ‘professor’. I’m trying for the JET Program for next year- a program that, if I get accepted, will send me back to that crazy beautiful land of Japan to do some hands-on teaching. I’ve justified it as a good way to save up money for grad school, to expand my resume (look, I taught abroad!), to make sure this is what I want to do. But I know my own real reason: I’m running away. I’m buying myself time. It’s what I’ve done over and over again. I’ve had people express surprise that such a quiet, introverted little thing like myself would go abroad. It used to surprise even me, but I’ve thought about it, and I think I like it so because my choices are made for me. I know who I am in Japan- I am the gaijin, the foreigner, absolved of any responsibility as I play out the cultural script set out for me and fulfill the expectations. My family and old friends are far away, and I can craft a new identity for myself. When I think about perhaps settling there, I feel an almost sense of relief, regardless of what I’d be doing. When I imagine the rest of my life in America, my anxieties increase tenfold. My best friend also wants to go somewhere else- maybe to Oklahoma with her estranged father, or Chicago, for the amazing urban ministry work they’re doing there. I’m not saying that Fresno/the Central Valley is at all alluring for us to stay, but I feel the same desperation, that same “If I move myself from here bodily, maybe it will take me where I want to be emotionally.” I can’t tell if it’s a good strategy or one of avoidance.
What a long, strange, meandering blog. Again, as always, I just don’t have the answers. Four years ago, it would have been inconceivable to imagine me trying to choose between teaching English or educating sexuality. It still feels impossible. But I know where my heart wants to go. Can I follow it?
Comments- at least the encouraging kind- are welcome.
I’m at a little bit of a loss. By December, assuming that I don’t punk out and fail all of my classes (which, considering my levels of procrastination lately, isn’t all that much of a stretch), I will be graduated with a B.A. in Linguistics. I will have spent four years (plus one pesky extra semester) in college, will have spent God knows how much of my parents’ money, and . . . may have nothing to show for it.
Don’t get me wrong; I love linguistics. Language has always captivated me. I know that I like it because I can go on and on about how English doesn’t have any voiced stops, not really- can you believe it?- and other people try to politely change the subject. Despite my hatred of most sciences (I loved the math behind chemistry and the cool explanations of biology but detested the requisite experimentation in each), I found an academic branch that adheres to the scientific method but doesn’t require peering through microscopes. I even managed to allay my parents’ fears and find the sub-branch that would give me a steady job (i.e. teaching). I’ve gotten just a little bit (not enough) over my intense nervousness when speaking in front of large groups, and heck, I think I could manage to teach and grow pretty good at it. I have lots of ideas, and, in honor of delusions of grandeur, I still fantasize about publishing some field-altering research on second language acquisition, becoming an acknowledged expert who can teach the bigwigs in Washington about what sort of education would best suit the bilingual children of our nation, or even going so far as to open and run my own language school, implementing my highly individualized and principled methodology to great renown.
I should be happy.
And yet, there’s something tugging at me. I’ve struggled this semester to keep up with my schoolwork, not because of my general laziness and procrastination (well, okay, that, too), but because I’m busier writing blogs, consuming and producing erotic content of various types, and generally keeping up on the online world of sex, sexuality, porn, the queer movement, and so on and so on. If I had to list my passions, so-called ‘sexology’ would come out leaps and bounds ahead of linguistics. I obviously give it priority in my life; it excites me intellectually and brings out a fiery passion you just can’t get when debating whether we really do have Chomsky’s language acquisition devices in our brains. I’ve always wanted to change the world, to make an impact, to have some weight and sway. I still long to publish a book, to see it on library shelves and know that people are reading it and my ever-opinionated thoughts are being disseminated for discussion and contemplation. I want a sexy advice column. I want to review sex toys. I want to write professional erotica. I want to help make queer porn, the kind of porn I want to see. I want to open sexuality centers. I want to lobby and protest and march for gay rights. I want to subvert the system. I want to influence public policy about sex education. I want to help make sex work safe. I want to do so much. I just don’t know if doing it on the side would be satisfying enough. Aren’t there some sort of unspoken rules about teachers not doing such controversial things? (Not that I want to shy away from controversy, but I do tend to like keeping a job).
It’s interesting . . . my best friend and I are both graduating, and our struggles in regards to the future eerily mirror one another’s. We went to school together, and she now has a completed B.A. in deaf education, something she has decided she doesn’t want to do (much to her mother’s horror). Much in the same way that I quietly went from a naïve little freshman who barely knew she was queer (much less about the big world of porn and sex radicalism) to the person I am today, she was undergoing her own transformation, from a naïve little freshman whose church work was mainly self-contained to a sophisticated, globally-thinking urban minister and missionary, fighting on the fronts of social/racial justice, poverty, and environmentalism. Her dedication, her passion, and her zeal continue to amaze me- and inspire me. I used to feel less important in my own passions, as if what I was doing/feeling couldn’t be as important as hers. I’ve since gained a lot more confidence and, no doubt due to our fascinating discussions and the help of the very provocative book “That’s Revolting!”, learned the intersections where the two meet (even if we would take different paths to try to better the life of a prostitute- me fighting for rights and decriminalization, she for proselytizing them out of the trade). But where she and I differ is in her utter devotion. She wants to throw herself into the work, regardless of condemnation from her friends and family or any care to money. Maybe I’m greedy, and maybe I care too much what others think (although I’ll argue it’s a lot harder selling “sex work advocacy” than “urban ministry” to your family), but I want some steadiness in my life, some financial guarantees. And what with any sex/porn-advocacy job at the very least usually freelance and, in today’s economy, perhaps nonexistent, I just don’t know that I could throw myself full-heartedly into it, confident I could wring a salary and a life from it.
I take a little solace in knowing that I have time. There’s still either a Masters or a teaching credential waiting before I can legally assume the title of ‘professor’. I’m trying for the JET Program for next year- a program that, if I get accepted, will send me back to that crazy beautiful land of Japan to do some hands-on teaching. I’ve justified it as a good way to save up money for grad school, to expand my resume (look, I taught abroad!), to make sure this is what I want to do. But I know my own real reason: I’m running away. I’m buying myself time. It’s what I’ve done over and over again. I’ve had people express surprise that such a quiet, introverted little thing like myself would go abroad. It used to surprise even me, but I’ve thought about it, and I think I like it so because my choices are made for me. I know who I am in Japan- I am the gaijin, the foreigner, absolved of any responsibility as I play out the cultural script set out for me and fulfill the expectations. My family and old friends are far away, and I can craft a new identity for myself. When I think about perhaps settling there, I feel an almost sense of relief, regardless of what I’d be doing. When I imagine the rest of my life in America, my anxieties increase tenfold. My best friend also wants to go somewhere else- maybe to Oklahoma with her estranged father, or Chicago, for the amazing urban ministry work they’re doing there. I’m not saying that Fresno/the Central Valley is at all alluring for us to stay, but I feel the same desperation, that same “If I move myself from here bodily, maybe it will take me where I want to be emotionally.” I can’t tell if it’s a good strategy or one of avoidance.
What a long, strange, meandering blog. Again, as always, I just don’t have the answers. Four years ago, it would have been inconceivable to imagine me trying to choose between teaching English or educating sexuality. It still feels impossible. But I know where my heart wants to go. Can I follow it?
Comments- at least the encouraging kind- are welcome.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
She's a Dirty Girl: On Being Disgusting
This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.Saturday, July 12, 2008
Updates
I'm just lolling around here on a lazy Sunday, no real desire to do anything productive and much more of a desire to waste time on the Internet.
So here are a few updates from my life, the Internet, and even just random junk.
I'm still here in Japan, taking part in a TESOL (that's Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages, for all you normal folks) program at my favorite university, Tokiwa Daigaku. Going wonderfully, as usual- busy, having fun, occasionally hung-over. I swear, while I do like my regular glass of wine, I never drink as much at home as I do in Japan. It must be something about those nomihoudai's (a flat fee for 2 hours of all-the-alcohol-you-can-drink . . . can you imagine how Americans would abuse that system!?!) and every friend I made and teacher I knew last year inviting me out to go do something. My wallet is stretched to its limit, but I've been able to go a little farther thanks to the generosity of some very kind people. Thanks, guys.
On a different and more genderqueer-y note, I found out how to write my (real) name in kanji. Sorry, folks, but Gwen is only a pseudonym. And while I'd like to maintain web anonymity, the ancient Chinese character coincidences are just too cool to not mention. My real name, like that of most foreigners, has all of those pesky sounds which they can now deal with but just weren't equipped for back in the day when kanji were drifting from the Chinese mainland to the land of the rising sun. So while I can write the hard "D" sound at the end of Candy with katakana (キャンディ), no kanji exists to express that sound. If I want to use kanji, I need my whole name, Candice, and I change the pronunciation to "day", closer to its real sound instead of the spelling. Anyways, this is just background for those who don't know how to switch borrowed English into Japanese. But with the help of some Japanese friends and electronic dictionaries, whe found some kanji that works to represent my name. Interestingly enough, there's only one kanji for the sound of the first syllable of my name (kyan), and I was amazed to find that the meaning is something roughly akin to tomboy.
So here are a few updates from my life, the Internet, and even just random junk.
I'm still here in Japan, taking part in a TESOL (that's Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages, for all you normal folks) program at my favorite university, Tokiwa Daigaku. Going wonderfully, as usual- busy, having fun, occasionally hung-over. I swear, while I do like my regular glass of wine, I never drink as much at home as I do in Japan. It must be something about those nomihoudai's (a flat fee for 2 hours of all-the-alcohol-you-can-drink . . . can you imagine how Americans would abuse that system!?!) and every friend I made and teacher I knew last year inviting me out to go do something. My wallet is stretched to its limit, but I've been able to go a little farther thanks to the generosity of some very kind people. Thanks, guys.
On a different and more genderqueer-y note, I found out how to write my (real) name in kanji. Sorry, folks, but Gwen is only a pseudonym. And while I'd like to maintain web anonymity, the ancient Chinese character coincidences are just too cool to not mention. My real name, like that of most foreigners, has all of those pesky sounds which they can now deal with but just weren't equipped for back in the day when kanji were drifting from the Chinese mainland to the land of the rising sun. So while I can write the hard "D" sound at the end of Candy with katakana (キャンディ), no kanji exists to express that sound. If I want to use kanji, I need my whole name, Candice, and I change the pronunciation to "day", closer to its real sound instead of the spelling. Anyways, this is just background for those who don't know how to switch borrowed English into Japanese. But with the help of some Japanese friends and electronic dictionaries, whe found some kanji that works to represent my name. Interestingly enough, there's only one kanji for the sound of the first syllable of my name (kyan), and I was amazed to find that the meaning is something roughly akin to tomboy.
How cool is that? Add in the "de" and "su" sounds that complete the Japanese version of "Candice", and the result is very interesting. There are tons of kanji for each of these sounds, respectively, but my buddies chose 出 and 州, the former which means "exit, leaving" and the latter "state". Okay, so "state" in this case refers more to a concrete demarcated land area, like the 50 American states or Japanese prefectures, but I like to be more whimsical, and call it a state as in a state of mind. If you combine all three of these, then, you get a few interesting readings. It might be leaving the state of tomboyishness- a representation of my leaving androgyny and tomboy genderqueerness to seek out my inner queer femme (as I have lately been longing to do, in a safe space)? Or is it more like I'm leaving my normal state to seek out more tomboyishness, to the point of drag and purposeful genderbending? Either way, I'm thrilled at the fact that my name isn't something trite and silly- no "beautiful child" like is so common here. It's rare and strange, just like me, 侠出州.
In other news that isn't all about me . . .
1) Butch-Boi.com is up! Members Pages are now available, which means you can participate in the forum with other hot bois and lovers of bois, and interact in a multitude of ways. Good job, Butch-Boi.com, and we look forward to more!
2) Do you belief in that old superstition about someone dying for every new child that is born? Well, it isn't that serious, but just as Butch-Boi.com has been birthed, CrashPadSeries.com is a little bit ill. She isn't dying- no way, Jose- because you can't kill something so successful and loved with such a talented and determined team behind it. But for the moment, the site is down due to its web hosting service. No more forum. No more hot sex. Just a holding page that is as depressing and yet hopeful as the old-fashioned rainbow "Technical Difficulties" that used to appear on TV's- you kept watching hoping it would disappear and the good stuff would come back. Hopefully things get remedied soon. Good luck, Crash Pad, and looking forward to your return.
That's all for now, I guess, since my brain has gone on strike until my stomach gets the late lunch it is demanding. Bye, all!
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