Newt In A Tea Cup











{March 27, 2007}   What were you thinking?

It’s amazing all the static, white noise that presses against our ears, envelops our head in cotton so we can’t hear anything clearly any more. Do we sometimes feel that everything we know might be wrong? Of course. But worse than that is the strength of other people’s simultaneous voices; real and imagined. We write scripts to save time, thinking, help us slip along in peace. The answers don’t matter but the adherence to the script does – “Good morning” “Nice weather today” “How are you” “I like your top” “How are your family doing?” “Did you see her outfit?” “How’s work going?” “What do you expect?” “That’s life” “Be safe” ”
Be safe”
“Be safe”
“Should have known better”

Watch this video at Christi Nielsen. This is the fear, the void. This is what we all hear at some point. Sometimes less, sometimes more. But it’s there. And it’s not going away.

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{March 24, 2007}   Do I look bovvered?

Okay, seriously, who the hell does searches for “elderly granny porn“?

Conversation I had today whilst walking back from work and nibbling on my chicken drumsticks (my lunch, you tossers.)

Idiot1&2: Yo gorgeous! Is it good? Baby- come here!
Me: Ooh- does that make you feel like a big strong man, you little sweethearts?
Idiot 3 (running after me): Hey, just ignore them. Ignore them. Can I talk to you?
Me: (eyebrow goes up in what I shall label dubious/sarcastic/withering stare or DSWS for short)
Idiot 3: You really are a very beautiful woman. (add various flirtatious noises)
Me: Thankyou. I already know that. (DSWS working overtime)
Idiot 3: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Not interested.

Just a note: I’d only had five hours sleep the night before and looked it. My hair was what, if one squinted, cocked head and looked towards sun, one would call stylishly dishevelled (i.e: not brushed). If my lips were red it was because they were so chapped they were bleeding. Now, I know I’m a gorgeous women, thank you very much 😛 , but those twasocks seem to be completely blind in their search for a two legged female target. Because at that moment in time I was hardly flashing my “come hither” eyes. Idiots.

Oh, and if you’re mates are complete idiots you’ve already blown your chances. Refraining from yelling “nice arse” does not prince charming make anyway. Idiots.



{March 19, 2007}   This is me. Who are you?

transcript of an text message conversation

Yo sexy mama! Is it forbidden 4 a human with an “almighty cock” to enter ur household establishment? xxxxxx s—–

Note: “almighty cock” is an expression I used to explain misogyny to a friend who, bless him, couldn’t understand what on earth it was because “It’s not true”, “But women aren’t inferior!” and “but that doesn’t make any sense.” I tried to tell him that’s kind of the point but maybe my sarcasm gland took over. I think he gets it now. 🙂

Ill give u acess to my coven a better day – but u shall have to bring a sacrifice 2 ur godess

Yes, I am now a sexy mama, and a goddess. Worship me, heathens.

Ahem. Explanation: My parents have left me home alone for the next 3 weeks. They have enforced a strict “no guys after seven PM” rule showing that they honestly don’t know me that well. I said that. They said they trust me but they don’t want to give the neighbours a false impression of me. I am seriously puzzled as to how important the neighbours opinion on my virtue counts as they are complete idjits who have a caravan and two cars and leave them parked any which way, blocking room for our own car. Anyone with such low environmental regard and, worse, regard for my parent’s blood pressure does not get to judge me. So there.

Also, no guys over doesn’t mean I can’t go out. We’ve spent the last few nights blaring out Britney Spears and Steps until early morning (quickly turning the volume down and closing windows at the traffic lights in town so we don’t get beating to death by the rather large chav populace for being too flamin’ fabulous. They just don’t understand the genius that is “Tragedy”, honestly.)

Secondly I’ve started a new job and I’ve worked overtime (the morning after a friend’s eighteenth non-stop dance party meaning I didn’t get home ’till two in the morn. Oy, oy. Customer service, here I come!)

I am aware this has little to nothing to do with feminism. But I guess it has a lot to do with me.

Freedom like that, is something that feels very rare to me. Maybe it’s because I’m getting to the independent stage and maybe it’s because of how I grew up. And I think that has influenced me a lot. That is why this subject is so key to me. Because I remember being little and being the outside one, the one feeling outcast because of the expectations placed on me. I still remember my mother breaking down in tears over our long-running argument about my domestic habits (messy room, ok?). She revealed the real reason it bothered her was because she felt that when I grew up it could cause serious marital difficulties if I wasn’t domestic, that I would end up divorced. I think I was ten at the time she said that.

We still fight about my room. And it’s becoming pretty clear I will never be able to fulfil her idea of woman-hood. So I’m trying to build myself a new idea and, like an archaeologist trying to discover a layered buried world of women where my past and options of the future lie.

And I’ll admit I’m struggling. I’m trying to figure out where I stand, spiritually and physically – especially in relation to my mother, in search of female role models. I don’t think I have all of the answers. But I do have plenty of questions and sometimes it is the act of asking, the questioning that is the most important step. That is the real journey and adventure.

So I’ve been really busy, too busy. But I’m not going away until I’m satisfied and even then I won’t stop. Because I know how easy it is to slip backwards, for entropy to grab us. I know because when I was ten I fought and won a several year long, drawn out battle to get permission to wear trousers to church. It’s hardly the biggest feminist battle – Oh woe are my poor skirted, oppressed legs! – But if something like that drew so many tears and yells and anger, how can we begin to expect to solve the big issues without a lot more of the same?

And I also understand more than you think. I know her point of view and I know that she believed she was doing the best thing for me, that she acted out of love.

And those are the reasons why the issue of women is so difficult for us women, irrespective of the way men feel about it. This is an issue concerning identity, concerning the way we have been brought up, what we consider right. It’s hard to shrug those things off and asking someone to “shrug it off” is not appropriate.

You see, people who hate abortion, believe women should always be modest to ridiculous extent, think a women is best in the home don’t necessarily hate us, as women. They don’t mean hypocrisy and they don’t want violence against women. They just genuinely think that this is what is best.

But more than that I think they are scared. They are scared of a big bad world, where justice isn’t there to save the day, where the innocents are sacrificed without any outcry, where the way they were brought up doesn’t keep them safe. Change has been big and it is frightening. It means that things you have believed so strongly in could be wrong or not work. It’s easier to hold on to the frozen moments of yesterday than the change yourself and let go of lessons painfully enforced.

I think that is why there seems to be a backlash, why women’s issues always cause so much controversy. Because whilst this is a fight over individual issues, it really is a big fight over what the identity of woman is, about what women mean in society. It’s a fight over how we fit in this new world we are building and about the old one we are leaving behind.

It’s all about one question:

Who are you?



{March 8, 2007}   International Women’s Day

Don’t know about you but that seems a bit little to me. To be frank I’d be happy for a whole millennia to focus on women. Might offset the way we’ve been judged throughout the last couple of millennia. Of course I have been accused of narcissism before.

Does my sassiness upset you?

So let’s bust out the narcissism. I will freely admit to being selfish in many ways and I don’t believe that a necessarily bad thing. After all being selfish is recognising the self, the inner needs and drive. To be selfish you have to first recognise that you are worth something and that you have individual dreams and ambitions that are valid.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

But a bit of narcissism has almost become a self-defence, survival tactic and I would recommend it to all young girls with body image issues.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness

There is so much to bring us down, constantly thrown violently in our faces. Shopping for clothes can be emotionally draining, leaving an urge to cry and there are days when you feel like all of a sudden your body is too big for you to fit in it, awkward, fat, ugly.

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise

Let the narcissism in, quick. As a class women have been beaten, abused, raped, killed, made to feel inadequate, starved, airbrushed, forced into contraptions that hurt and maim in the name of beauty, trafficked, sold, objectified, dismissed, abandoned and ignored.

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise

BUT that’s not the end of the story. And that knowledge is why the narcissism is deserved, even merited.

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

We have not been destroyed. We are still here and despite all that we are still thriving strong. We have given the world a pantheon of strong guardian mothers though the world may not know it yet.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise

I have a lot of hope in young women and I believe that the coming generations can and will change the world. We are more powerful in ourselves than you can imagine; because our mothers and grandmothers have fought for us; because we are still fighting, struggling but our momentum means we are no more on our knees, that we shall and must win; because we are standing proud and we hold our hands out to our sisters beside us and around the world and we say, without apology in our eyes and minds, that we hold the key to the world that men have been unable to create alone.

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise

It is through women that we shall resolve the issue of poverty, of AIDS, of violence, of sickness and it is through women that we shall learn to love. You cannot judge us now; as a world class we are still in the process of becoming. But the journey, though painful, is opening a new world, a new tree of life that will bloom with the accomplished works and ambitions and desires of complete people, complete souls.

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise

Still I rise is by Maya Angelou



{March 2, 2007}   Friday Word Blogging

Beautiful, beautiful poetry that talks about how gendered discrimination hurts men too, how this hurts women and all of our capability’s to relate with each other; the hypocrisy of the war on terror when there is plenty of terror in our own homes.

Def Poetry – Mark Gonsalez – As With Most Men

Check it out.



{March 1, 2007}   Roundup

The thing I like about word press is the way it tells you the search terms people have used to get here.

So far I’ve had a majority of people arriving here looking for “sluts” and “masturbation“. To those of you – I would examine your intentions. That is all.

To the surprisingly large amount of people who typed in variations of “old nude men” – ????? my reaction

To the person who typed “how to spot promiscuous female” the answer I give is that you don’t. Women are not wildlife with a check list of features to spot and tick off a list. We are people with personalities. I still need to finish my “Slut series” but I think it’s clear that promiscuity is a constructed social ideal that varies from person to person. Often it is a double, unjust standard. And it most certainly does not affect a person’s worth.

To the two people (I presume women) who wanted to know how to induce abortion using tea– don’t. In 1994 a woman died from doing that. It isn’t worth it. From what I gather one of you is only 15 days along – go to a doctor, call a helpline. Do what you need to do but for God’s sake don’t put your life in danger. Please.

Now, to those who typed in lolita nude , men wanking over womens body, rape, lolita nude, father and girl porn and real lolita child porn I suggest you check in to a psychiatrists if not a police station. You are sick and twisted evil individuals and need a lot of help. Stop and think for once that you are getting off on the pain and destruction of real people. People with dreams, and emotions and minds and feelings. But I’m guessing you sick psychos don’t care about that, do you?

To everyone else who landed here looking for personalised teacups, what “u.k.” stands for, and a plethora of newt related searches (“how to knit outfits for a pet newt“, “how much does a newt weigh“, “pregnant newt conditions“, “cheesy newts” and “a small newts exposition” plus many more) I apologize and hope I haven’t impeded your search for greater knowledge. 🙂



et cetera