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Leshachikha
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Name: Kate
Birthday: 11/12/1988
Gender: Female
Interests: thinking; sundried tomatoes; novels; poetry; the bizarre; Spanish language; atheism; skepticism; rationalism; feminism; antidisestablishmentarianism and/or albinoism; potato soup; paradoxes; parenthesis; purported causes; presents; painting; perversion; pavement; payment; prawns; pears; prayer; parallel structure, pickles; prunes; prattle, pianissimo; alliteration; drawing; psuedo-fainting; soprano recorder; alto recorder; absquatulate; flute; tin whistle; Lemony Snicket; Phillip Pullman, J.K Rowling; Sinclair Lewis; authors of varying degrees of deadnes; wet, wild weasel sex; and iced tea mix.
Expertise: Singing off-tune, drawing mediocre pictures, writing abstruse poetry, and having far too many opinions about everything.
Message: message me
Member Since:
8/15/2004
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| It's really quite odd that my family cannot remember our own traditions. Case in Point: The yearly frog vs. pickle debate Those
of you brushed up on your Germanic holiday traditions might know that
it is customary to hang a pickle-shaped ornament near the top of the
Christmas tree. Ours being a family of not-too-distant German ancestry,
it would make sense for us to have a pickle ornament. So every year,
after we put on the star, someone makes a comment like: "Well, now where's the pickle?" Last year it was me. The year before that it was my brother. This year it was my mom. Then ensues spirited debate: "What are you talking about? We don't have a pickle ornament. We have a frog." "No, we have a pickle, I thought." "No, we most definitely have a frog." "I don't think so... I'm pretty sure we have a pickle... Why would we have a frog?" "Listen, I asked where the pickle was last year and you all looked at me like I was insane. We definitely have a frog." So
we take out the last ornament box, unrolling the bubble wrap and
tissue, eager to see what the mysterious ornament actually is. Its
ambiguity is heightened by the fact that we house it in a box with a
very 70s graphic of a turtle on front that used to store one of those
brushes you use to clean off your shoe soles that was shaped like a
turtle. This always causes momentary confusion, making us question
whether we have a turtle ornament rather than a pickle or a
frog. But then we discover anew each year that yes, it is actually a
frog. Granted, it is over 70 years old, has lost all color, and is a
strangely pointy and bumply frog so it looks eeriely like a shiny
silver pickle as much as it does a shiny silver amphibian. Then,
infalliably, each year my mother and I resolve that we will buy a
pickle ornament for the tree to end this crisis once and for all. Of
course, we forget about it, and the conversation fades until the
neurons only store a vague connection between pickle and Christmas, priming us for the debate to come next year. We don't even have that many traditions. You'd think we could keep track of them. | | |
| Things I am thankful for:
1. Having a safe life teeming with opportunities. The whole mania about
finding a college to go to seems slightly ridiculous when I consider
that I am lucky to even be going to college. I have the tremendous good
fortune of attending an excellent high school, having been accepted to
a college with a full scholarship, and having a family in the financial
situation where sending me off to school is no trial. I am lucky to
even be educated as much as I currently am, lucky to have the leisure
time and money to read books, lucky to spend my time studying instead
of working... The list goes on.
2. Similarly, I have been gifted with a life free from disability.
Sometimes I am bitter about my intelligence, my looks, and the like,
but on the whole, there is nothing to complain about. Instead, I should
concentrate on making the best of what I have been given. There was an
article in the NY Times not too long ago about high-functioning Down's
Syndrome children and their parents' struggles with finding the best
academic situation for them. For these children, the normal community
college experience is essentially an intellectual impossibility. In
light of that, I am so very fortunate. I have done nothing special to
deserve intelligence and good health and thus I must pay that debt to
society.
3. I have a roster of wonderful friends who support me and brighten my
life. CC and Christine and Steve and Danielle and Rebekah and Aftin and
Aaron and Stucky and Julia and Sarah and Brad and Nick and Cindy and
Jeff and everyone else... You guys are wonderful to me. You are kind,
devilishly clever, immeasurably sexy, infinitely loving, entertaining,
comedic, etc etc. I hope that when we all scatter for college, we'll
still find the time and room for each other whenever we can.
4. Hey Mike. I love you, you know? You've changed me for the better in
so many ways. You've supported me when I am discouraged, cheered me up
when I am sad, challenged me when I am being a douchebag, and shown me
love at all times. You have not only been a marvellous boyfriend, but a
steadfast best friend as well. No matter where we are next year, no
matter what happens, I love you and I am immensely thankful for the
love you have given me.
Plus, you're cute too.
5. All the little things and joys: NIAHD buddies, mechanical pencils,
iron-on t-shirt transfers, the fresh smell of a new hardback book,
adorable flightless birds, trashy television programs, sycamores, CD
players, pretty photos in Vogue, thunderstorms on wide plains, the
First Amendment, eccentric historians who appear on Ken Burns
documentaries, unexpected mail, geologists, lip gloss in tasty flavors,
instant messaging, the excitement of journals with nothing written in
them, notes that you find on the ground, contrails in the sunset, word
processors, curious accents, small towns in the West,
strawberry-rhubarb pies, Steve Pan's bizzare comments, renaissance
music troupes, raunchy jokes, Volvos, limes, insightful remarks in
class from unexpected sources, cheesy inspirational quotes, loud music
with the bass turned up high, canals, Bill Bryson in his infinite
wisdom, quirky historical statistics, third-parties that make a strong
showing, people whom I absolutely hate for being so good that I in turn
try and make myself better just to spite them, microwaves, the smell of
warm pebbles, amusing acronyms, magnets, holiday lights that twinkle
and flash, Pat Robertson's periodic bufoonery that helps remind
everyone that the extreme right is completely nutso, indoor plumbing,
candles that smell like fruit or cinnamon or vanilla, people that
restore my faith in humanity, round-toed heels, carbonation, carbon
dating, climbing trees and getting scratched up by blackberry bushes,
laughing until you cough or cry, competent teachers, secularists, cloth
napkins that make any occasion feel fancy, brightly colored trinkets,
honesty, dirty dancing until 2 AM with friends, druids, unexpected
beautiful thoughts, and train whistles that make me look back on my
life and cry with hope for the future. | | |
| Oh yeah, irony alert of the day: Man preaches about how privileged individuals should be eternally aware of their privileged assumptions, while at the same time presuming to be an authority on what women do or do not enjoy sexually.
For those wary of clicking the link, the article dissects the practice of double penetration in pornography and asserts that it is inherently sexist. Actually, the author thinks all pornography is sexist, so why he chose double penetration in particular rather than any other number of sexual practices that could be more convincingly construed as degrading is beyond me. I got a kick out of the fact that his argument that the practice is degrading to women lies on essentially sexist assumptions. For instance:
"In my 48 years, I have never met a woman outside the
pornography industry who has acknowledged participating in a DP or having a
desire to do so."
Cute, Jensen, cute. Obviously, women have the obligation to respond fully and truthfully to a man interrogating them about their sexual practices, especially practices the patriarchy has established as the domain of prostitutes. Women you are personally acquainted with are also representative of all women, since females are one homogenous entity of Woman. Personal anecdotes about female sexual behavior from a male perspective could not possibly be slanted or misinterpreted. What a refreshingly non-privileged viewpoint! Gee, Mister Jensen, this little woman sure is pleased to the point of swooning that you could save her from the scary evils of double penetrating, misogynist rogues on film! I suppose you want a cookie and a feminist gold star now, huh?
Well, screw that (no pun intended)! This anti-pornography bull is just patriarchy hiding sheep's clothing, telling women what they can or cannot enjoy and what they can or cannoy legitimately do with their bodies. The range of female sexual desire is just as nuanced and fetish-studded as male sexual desire. Porn stars are not invariably victims. Believe it or not, O Jensen, women can actually like kinky sex. Imagine that!
Denying the existence of female kinks denies the legitimacy of female sexual expression that lies outside of male-defined boundaries of good womanhood. And that's sexism in one of it's worst forms.
I have never understood the anti-pornography feminist women. Maybe if they see their arguments being spewed out by a man, they'd see just how much they are in harmony with the patriarchy. Anti-pornography crusaders operate oftentimes on the notion that A. there is something humiliating about nakedness, particularly female nakedness and B. sex is a masculine desire. Both are sexist arguments.
*takes a deep breath*
Now, I was despairing when I read that article, since I generally am impressed by dissidentvoice essays. But then I saw that another dissidentvoicer had already fired off a rebuttal, pointing out some of Jansen's flaws. Thank god. But it still irks me that a man, a professor no less who deals with privilege issues in his classroom, could have such a fatally marred understanding of his own privilege.
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| http://www.dissidentvoice.org/Nov06/Cook17.htm
^Worthwhile article to read.
I don't think I quite sympathize with the author's apparent anti-Zionism. After all, Israel is there. It's gonna be there. There's no just way to uproot the Israelis, any more than there's a fair way to deny Palestinian self-determination. His indignant righteousness is quite unrelated to the issue he discusses and useless in every pragmatic sense. However, some interesting points are made about the failure of the Israeli left/peace movement to achieve or even agitate for a successful two-state compromise. A particularly interesting tidbit:
When Israelis are
asked about their view of more specific peace plans, their responses are
overwhelmingly negative. In 2003, for example, 78 percent of Israeli Jews
said they favored a two-state solution, but when asked if they supported
the Geneva Initiative -- which envisions a very circumscribed Palestinian
state on less than all of the West Bank and Gaza -- only a quarter did so.
Barely more than half of the supposedly leftwing voters of Labor backed
the Geneva Initiative.
This low level of
support for a barely viable Palestinian state contrasts with the
consistently high levels of support among Israeli Jews for a concrete, but
very different, solution to the conflict: “transfer”, or ethnic cleansing.
In opinion polls, 60 percent of Israeli Jews regularly favor the
emigration of Arab citizens from the as-yet-undetermined borders of the
Jewish state.
It seems pretty obvious that no one in Israeli is chomping at the bit to give up any significant chunk of territory, just as no one in Palestine is particularly eager to sidle away peaceably with a slice of the West Bank. This whole two-state thing won't work because the two peoples in question want the same bit of land. That's the simple truth. There is no two-state solution that will satisfy both countries (and any two-state solution would doubtless be at Palestinian detriment, seeing as Israel holds all the legitimate military cards, which would make the process useless for lasting peace).
Maybe one state is preferable. The complexities of creating it are mind-boggling though-- How do you reconcile Israel's necessary (in my opinion) status as a safe haven for Jewish people whilst allowing Palestinians fair and democratic access to political power and ensuring their civil rights? (Haha, profound political commentary of the day, no?)
So yeah. I'm not sure which road is the safe, just, and fair one. But something has to change in the way the world treats the Israel-Palestine issue, because we haven't made any real headway since... ever?
((I have really glancing and shallow political commentary, seeing as I regurgitate articles and fail to offer any plans of my own. But I suppose that no one has the faintest idea how to get out of that mess. Oh well. I'll work on it.))
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| Notes to Random People: Danielle-- I finally finished writing you a letter. That is cause for much confetti!
Christine--
Come back from college. I desperately need your pragmatism. Please? We
could commiserate about how we both feel like empty, emotionless shells
of women whilst drinking tea and it would be smashing. When's your
holiday break?
Steve-- You come back from college too. I need to thank you for the STUPENDOUSLY AWESOME birthday gift you got me.
Sarah M.-- What's up? I don't talk to you enough.
Hugh-- Ditto above. Random Thoughts: Exhibit
A-- I really, really like Threadless t-shirts, except for the fact that
every man, woman, and child on this planet has become aware of them,
transforming their pithy wit into Strongbad-esque irritatingness with
the mighty force of over-exposure. Whatever that mysterious illness is
that causes people to recite Family Guy episodes verbatim for
hours on end at parties has now compelled them to flaunt their tees at
every available moment, grinning as though they'd thought of the joke
themselves or as if I hadn't already seen the thing fifty thousand
times! But I still purchased one for myself because I am a pretentious, conforming, indie poseur. Damn you all. Exhibit
B-- I really enjoy oak trees in Fall. There's something appealingly
homely about them. They don't get all garishly vibrant like maples do.
They wrap themselves in dull burnt orange and modestly cling to their
leaves long after all those whorish maples have gleefully dropped their
vegetative trousers. Oaks are almost as cool as sycamores, then, but
not quite. Exhibit C- TV on the Radio rocks. Exhibit D-- I
turned in the first round of college apps, and thus far, none of the
schools save Truman have deigned to give any indication of whether they
actually received my application or whether it has been swallowed up in
the gullet of the ravenous mail leopard. This makes me really nervous.
I have a flurry of minature mental breakdowns whenever I think about
December 15. Exhibit E-- I finally started a new set of
paintings. I've been neglecting that far too long in favor of
ultimately annoying things like studying for Physics tests. Or
pretending to be studying for Physics tests, since most of my time
purportedly doing that is really spent contemplating the wood grain of
the desk with the Physics book open in front of me. Or thinking about
sex. Or something. I could get a lot more done if my time-management
skills were better. Or if I had time-management skills at all. Exhibit F-- I'll be in Pittsburgh for Christmas, with my brother. Which sucks in some respects, but it's cool in others. | | |
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