Kosher Piglets

2005-10-25T23:12:00.000-07:00

I truly am a kid at heart. Today my Biology 101 class took a field trip to the Seattle Aquarium. I saw the otters (both river and sea) and my head exploded from all the unbearably intense cuteness. Among the many interesting factoids involving deception and cold-blooded murder on the part of the animals, the most fascinating was the story of a female octopus who decided to have an exotic snack.
You see, octopi have really good eyesight. The octopus in question, taking advantage of the invitingly high water level in her tank, decided to hoist herself up and take a look around. Peering over the edge of the tank, the octopus noticed a number of appetizing creatures in the tide pool (a good 15 feet away), and decided to make the trip. So she made her way out of the tank (about 10 feet tall), across the floor and into the tide pool. After having her fill, the octopus tried to get back to the tank but her strength seemed to leave her halfway: the night biologist found her, warm and sticky, lying in the middle of the floor.
Fortunately, the octopus turned out fine and was eventually released in the Sound. Aquarium staff immediately lowered the water level in the octopus tank, and no other octopi have since expressed an interest in eating out...

2005-10-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

I am reading this: Mihail Sebastian's Journal. It is really quite extraordinary.

2005-10-23T22:53:00.000-07:00

What I used to run from is always following me.
It's amazing how useful my nationality has been to me. Being Romanian and writing about it in an articulate manner got me into college. In a certain way, being a Romanian with perfect command of English got me a husband. It got me a job and increased acclaim from boss and coworkers. It will probably get me into grad school.
The good thing is that I am starting to finally feel comfortable with it. I used to desperately try to avoid talking about the fact that I am Romanian. Not out of shame, I just didn't think it was relevant, and I didn't want to be seen as a "Romanian" when I could be seen as me. Now I understand that people are interested in such details, and I am happy to oblige.

2005-10-09T00:09:00.000-07:00

I am reading Fasting Girls by Joan Jacobs Brumberg. It is very good.

2005-10-08T23:57:00.000-07:00

In this household we watch a lot of sports. Football, hockey, basketball (both college and professional versions), baseball, soccer, Aussie rules football, curling and Great Outdoors Games, we watch them all.
It is really endearing to see Adam watch soccer: he reminds of my dad. And while that has the potential of sounding creepy, it is actually a very sweet feeling.

2005-10-04T11:55:00.000-07:00

No two weird people are alike. What makes "good" weird? What makes "bad"?
One of my classmates this quarter has an unspecified disability, known in sophomoric school language as "being weird". He is clearly bright, able to process and retain information and to make associations as well as a "normal" human being. Socially, however, he is utterly handicapped. He seems not to be aware of a number of social conventions, such as the fact that one is not supposed to speak up in the middle of class even if one has a pertinent question or comment, or that one is not supposed to complain loudly upon hearing of an unpleasant assignment, or that one is not supposed to loudly tap one's pen against one's binder while the professor is lecturing. I can't tell whether he was never told these things and is incapable of inferring codes of behavior from experience, or he is just incapable of processing such information. He is not a bad kid, and I am sure he means no harm. Yet the class (me included) seems to cringe and want to hide every time he speaks up.
The contrast with Laethan is exceptionally telling. Laethan is not even half as bright as my classmate as far as abstract information is concerned. Yet Laethan's social skills are stellar. He is manifestly kind, funny and friendly, remembers people's birthdays, jobs and marital situations, and everyone loves chatting with him. Even though Laethan often doesn't make sense, nobody feels that Laethan has done or said something inappropriate. Even though my classmate often does make sense, people feel that his mere presence in the class is inappropriate.
My classmate's disability has rendered him more useful to society than Laethan. Yet Laethan's disability has rendered him pleasant. It's funny that we prefer pleasant over useful.

2005-10-02T21:38:00.000-07:00

You should check out my picture blog! I managed to catch a gorgeous, rainy sunset this afternoon.

2005-09-30T12:00:00.000-07:00

Going back to the incident involving the person wearing wire-frame glasses who asked for directions to the men's bathroom and then dropped his pants before scurrying off, I overheard a discussion in my collegium between 4 female students. None of them were amused. In fact, some of them were quite angry.
Of course I understand the distress the faculty member who experienced the incident must have felt. I do sympathize profoundly. But was she physically attacked? No. Could she have been? The possibility is always present, but I would venture that the likelihood was in the very low percentages. She was in her office in the middle of campus, with the door probably open. This is not a setting that a vicious criminal would choose. The guy was just a streaking wacko.
I may be taking this too lightly, but I still think it is funny.

2005-09-28T23:23:00.000-07:00

This takes place in a catholic university.

I received the following email from Campus Safety:

Indecent Exposure

At approximately 9:15pm on Tuesday, September 27, 2005, Campus Public Safety and Seattle Police Department received a report of an indecent exposure incident, which occurred in a faculty office located in the XYZ building.

The victim reported a young male individual entered her faculty office through an open door and exposed himself, after having asked her for directions to the men’s restroom. The suspect then ran westbound down the hallway. Campus Public Safety & SPD officers checked all areas in the building and the north end of campus. The suspect was not located.

The suspect was described as a Caucasian male, between 26 to 28 years of age, approximately 5’9” tall, with a medium build. The individual had short blonde hair, and wore wire frame glasses, and last seen wearing a dark blue sweatshirt with front zipper, beige shorts (cotton “Docker” type), and white sneakers.

I find the image of the wire-frame-glasses-wearing perpetrator asking a faculty member for directions to the men's restroom and *then* dropping his pants unbelievably hilarious. One of the advantages of going to a school where most of the students are genuinely God-fearing is that the students will do (or get their friends to do) totally wacky things like this. In a normal school, students will let off steam by drinking, doing drugs and fornicating with everyone on their floor. In a God-fearing school, students will take the more salvation-friendly route of showing their unmentionables to crotchety, old Econ professors.

2005-09-23T23:04:00.000-07:00

"A Confederacy of Dunces" is my favorite book at the moment. I am reading it for the second time (which I don't usually do). As it is set in New Orleans, it has become so much more poignant to me: I've never been to New Orleans, and now it's all gone.

2005-09-23T22:23:00.000-07:00

A couple months ago I went to get a facial at a place in Green Lake. That is because Adam was simply refusing to ejaculate on my face at the time, despite my repeated and multitudinous entreaties. Naturally, I am joking.
The place I went to, called Dermalogica, is located in a cute, quaint plaza right on the edge of Green Lake Park. After I was done with the gratuitous cosmetic pampering, I stepped into the World Wrapps next door. I made my order and handed the cashier my card.
Upon seeing my long and exotic (maiden) name, he asked "Where you from?". Normally, I would expect someone who hears an "unusual" name and is curious about it to say something like "That's a cool name!" which will usually extract details from the bearer of the name. No, strike that! In fact, in a very normal world, I would expect people not to notice "unusual" names in a semi-formal context like making a purchase.
Nonetheless, since I knew that the World Wrapps in question is frequented by students (many of whom are international), I let that slide and I answered "From Romania, actually." "Oh, really?" he said. "So what are you doing here?" There was no hostility in the way he asked the question, and yet I was irked. If he had asked "What brought you here?", it would have been totally cool. But asked me what I was doing, not even what I do. So I answered "I'm married." To which he replied: "Free ticket, huh?"
And so, in the course of two minutes, I turned from the bearer of an unusual name into a mail-order bride.

2005-09-22T13:20:00.000-07:00

(I am typing this at from a public place that was extremely crowded as early as 2 minutes ago, and I have just realized that I had forgotten to zip up after leaving the restroom. That happens way too often!)
My intelligent, effective husband has been shipped to New York for three days to help the Client with the Launch of the Product. In fact, this entails metaphorically rubbing the Client's Foot during times of stress more than doing actual work. But it is good to be on Foot-Rubbing Terms with the Client.
Yesterday evening I was on the phone with the said husband, who was staying in a jacuzzi-endowed hotel room in Albany. At the last status check, he had started to fill the tub and gotten in. Our conversation took the following turn:
Illy: "blah blah blah school blah blah recycling bins blah blah slimy classmate blah"
Husband: "Whoa!"
I: "What happened?"
H: "Oh, nothing."
I: "What is it?"
H: "Nothing... I think I'm just going to sit in the bath tub for a little bit."
I: (Plagued by visions of his testicles being sucked into the jacuzzi; yes, I know he would have sounded much more pained if that had been the case!) What HAPPENED?"
H: "You know, I thought I'd be expedient with the bath, so I only filled it with water past the first row (of jets)... And when I turned it on, one of the jets squirted water all the way across the room!"
I: (Starting to comprehend) "You only filled it past the first row of jets?"
H: "Yes."
I: "And then you turned it on?"
H: "...Yes."
I: (Starting to laugh) "But the jacuzzi sucks out water from the tub and then squirts it out through the jets! How did you think it works? "
H: Air, I thought it was air!
I: (Dying of laughter.)

2005-09-14T20:18:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I went on my yearly Back-to-School shopping spree. (I only indulge in two such sprees every year, in Fall and Spring, so really, you have to commend me for that!) To my utter delight, I was able to purchase pants! As in normal, adult-sized pants (size 0 but hey, the size exists and it fits!). Naturally, the pants were too long, because most white women are not endowed with a ghetto booty and being 5'6" at 100 pounds, however scary, does happen.
The pants also passed the Vagrant Man Test (TM), which means that I was very loudly and graphically complimented on my censorable anatomy while wearing them. It is called the Vagrant Man Test (TM) because I have never elicited such comments in any male who looked like he a) had taken a bath in the last week or b) had a job. Over the past year or so, vagrant men have told me:
"That's the finest booty I seen all day!"
"Ooohweee, fancy pussy!" (perhaps my favorite)
"You got a nice lil tush down there!"
"Look at that fine breast! Mmm, that's a fine piece of ass! Oh yeah!"
"You are one hot-assed bitch!"
Since most of such remarks come from black men, I almost tend to feel flattered, for two reasons:
1. Most of the black men in question are either pimps or wannabe-pimps. And while, granted, those particular black men don't usually deal in the finest material, they still have a presumably professional eye for nice-looking ass.
2. Black men generally like a brick house. I'll admit that I am still too slender for genuine brickhousiness, but I like to think that their hooting and their hollering conveys a sense of brick house potential.
This is probably one of the most politically-incorrect entries I have ever posted. Of course, political correctness is very good.
For me to poop on.

take me home!

2005-09-09T13:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we went to Chinook's with our friend Alex,
who is visiting from New York. As we were about to
walk into the restaurant, we saw a doggie tethered to
one of the pillars of the awning. He looked quite
forlorn, with his head drooping almost below his
shoulderblades, and we commented on the meanness of
leaving one's dog waiting outside while one is
stuffing themselves with food. As we were walking out
one a half hours later, the doggie was still there. He
was curled up on the pavement, looking lethargic, and
we had to stop by and say hello. He met Adam's initial
head scratching with a look that said "You are not
Master, yet I will begrudgingly accept your
scratching." After a few seconds he progressed to
"Your scratching is good, so I will allow myself to
indulge in this fleeting, ephemeral moment of
pleasurable human contact." After yet a few more
seconds, he lay on his side and exposed his belly,
signaling that he had understood that Adam is a
massage therapist. Finally, as Adam was rubbing his
belly and I was simultaneously scratching his head,
he looked at me as if to inquire "You wouldn't happen
to be in need of a dog, would you? I am cute, clean
and I don't lick my balls in public."
By the time we had pulled out of the parking lot I
swear that the doggie's gait was a little less droopy!

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2005-09-07T02:03:00.000-07:00

Peter Weller, a.k.a. RoboCop, is very cool.

2005-09-07T00:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I made the delicious desert illustrated below: dark chocolate cups with whipped cream and berries. Adam expressed his approval of the desert in just enough instances so that I can be sure it was a huge hit.
It is interesting how closely my enjoyment of food and of food preparation is tied to the way I feel. When I'm feeling good, there is almost nothing I like more. Cooking, like working out, is a meditative experience: my mind empties and my body switches to auto-pilot. When I'm not feeling good, however, the thought of coming close to food sickens me, and I can barely walk in the kitchen.

2005-09-07T00:33:00.000-07:00

Delicious desert.

2005-09-06T01:27:00.000-07:00

Now that I have been living here for two years I am finally starting to have enough distance from the Old Country that I can surf Romanian forums or even (gasp!) contribute to them. I've been spending a lot of time on a couple of immigration forums over the past couple months; the posters are either living here or wanting to come here. There are a lot of very emotional stories. And the people are more different from each other than I would have expected.
Most of the posters either have come here through marriage or are about to do so. They are mostly female. Some of them are very Romanian-housewife-y, complaining about everything that is unlike back home, from credit cards to dishwashers to people smiling as a matter of course (that is actually one of the chief complaints I've heard from Romanians living or visiting abroad; it makes me wonder about the pshychological makeup of a people that is made uneasy by courtesy). Some of them are independent and enterprising, having gotten jobs or gone back to school the first chance they had. Unsurprisingly, the latter group enjoys being here much more than the former.
Another group of posters have come here through employment. They tend to be well-adjusted but somewhat reserved. It is as if their work were their main tie to the US, with Romania predominating in their private life.
Yet another group has come here illegally. Since I think that immigration regulations are bullcrap and I don't find that abiding by the law makes one a decent person, I was surprised to find that most of the illegal immigrants don't seem to be very well-rounded. It is true that the stress of living illegally influences one in negative ways, but most of these posters had bad grammar (the worst of the forum groups), were more likely to use swear words and less likely to have a college degree. This means that 1. people with college degrees are more likely to find (residency-related) jobs andpositions here and 2. people with college degrees have good enough jobs and positions back home and are, therefore, less inclined to leave.
Differences between groups aside, I was surprised by how gracefully some of the posters seem to juggle being both American and Romanian. One of the best exchanges involved discussing the merits of the favorite football teams in great detail, and in Romanian!

2005-08-25T00:01:00.000-07:00

I miss my kitty, so here are some pictures of him.

2005-08-24T23:57:00.001-07:00

Kitty sticking head underneath roof.

2005-08-24T23:57:00.000-07:00

Majestic kitty looking out the window.

2005-08-24T23:56:00.001-07:00

Kitty in crevice.

2005-08-24T23:56:00.000-07:00

Portrait of kitty looking like the dictator of a third world country.

2005-08-24T23:55:00.000-07:00

Very soft-looking kitty enjoying warmth of monitor.

2005-08-24T23:54:00.000-07:00

Kitty experiencing equally strong anxiety and curiosity at the sound of the printer working.

2005-08-24T23:53:00.000-07:00

Sleeping kitty.

2005-08-24T23:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went down to the Social Security Administration and applied for my SSN. I should get it in two weeks. Two weeks until I become a semi-real person in the eyes of the government! Awesome! The office was filled with people seeking to obtain worker's compensation by flirting with the overweight clerk behind the counter. (Not only was she overweight, but she also wore a poncho!) Nonetheless, the flirting seemed to work, for most compensation seekers would leave with a triumphant smile on their face, taking leave of the next in line with "You take care now, brother! I'll see you in two weeks." It is good to know that flirting skills can produce a steady income.

2005-08-14T20:54:00.000-07:00

So Adam and I went out in the boonies this weekend. We spent last night on Puget Island, in a tres rural bed & breakfast that functions mostly as a farm. The surroundings were quaint, the people white (the young people were giving us the eye something fierce... a farming island can't be much fun for the kids) and the history rich: Cathlamet, the town that Puget Island officially belongs to, dates back to the 1830s.
Today we drove to Long Beach, which was chilly but lovely. I will always have a soft spot for tiny beachside towns, with all of their touristy kitschiness. The proximity to the water, the abundance of seafood and ice cream, and the silly trinket stores all bring me back to kidhood. Which is interesting, because I only remember enjoying going to the seaside as a very young kid, and the enjoyment is the only conscious memory I possess of those times. I suppose that is enough...

2005-08-08T00:46:00.000-07:00

Dude! Had I known that adding a picture of a cute piglet would boost the number of hits I get to tens (tens!) daily, I would have made that move way sooner.
So, yes, I have been away for a long time. It's funny, every time that I blog after a long hiatus I feel compelled to provide a summary of what I've been up to, which is not necessarily fun and which diminishes my motivation to continue blogging. Oh well, here goes.
I got married! Adam and I eloped, and the marriage was officiated (and consummated) on his brother David's living room couch in Manhattan. It was spectacular!
We are making slow but steady progress on Mega Mansion. I am hoping that we will have most of the furniture we need and most of the boxes unpacked by the end of the year.
I am continuing to improve my level of physical fitness. I spent 15 minutes on the elliptical today, doing interval training, and it was a piece of cake! I've also been noticing that my heart rate barely budges by the time I've completed my daily walk up the hill to Broadway. As recently as 6 months ago I would have had to stop to catch my breath.
Speaking of fitness, I have also received my personal training certification study materials. While extremely interesting, the amount of information I will need become familiar with is considerable. I was thinking of taking my certification exam in November, but I might postpone it til spring. I'll see how it goes.
I've been tutoring a developmentally disabled sweetheart for 7 months now, and I think we have made some progress (he seems to be more comfortable reading and writing). More often than not, however, I am thinking that the best help I can offer is not increased literacy, but a couple hours a week of constructive neurological stimulation and interaction with somebody who doesn't treat him like a child.

2005-06-12T22:56:00.000-07:00

I would really like to write more, and now that my school year is over I hope to be able to do so. When I started this blog (I started a lot of blogs; I love the starting) I was intending to make it into a politically-savvy networking hub kind of thing. Since then, I have realized that I am not so interested in the current events side of politics (or do not have the energy or the time to keep on top of things) and I do not have the right kind of personality for networking. Both things tend to take a lot of mental energy, my amounts of which have been declining ever since they peaked at age 15. I used to know a good deal of details about every noteworthy British band between 1985 and 1995! I possessed copious amounts of data in my brain! But I started losing the capacity for accumulating such knowledge as I got older and the background noise intensified. I am not whining, just reflecting.
So what's new?
I've got a job! Come Fall I will be working as the Writing Center, which promises to be thoroughly enjoyable *and* good for the resume.
Adam and I are going to New York on Thursday for David's ordination and Grandmaster Leung Ting's seminar. Am looking forward to that.
I am getting the feeling that my parents' marriage is not going fantastically well. I am simultaneously finding it harder to talk to my mother and easier to talk to my father. I think my father relishes talking to me as a confidante, which I love, while my mother is wanting to reach out but is unable to and ends up withdrawing, mimosa-like, whenever I talk to her.

2005-04-01T19:29:00.000-08:00

I've been doing the extended birth control pill regime (go through 3 packs then break for a week) in hopes of reducing the frequency of my periods and getting bigger boobs. The boobs are great and the period is sort of ok, but it's taken a toll on my libido -- old, old story. Plus, I am going through my customary spring depression. I was freaking out a few days ago, finding myself almost as depressed as two years ago, when I was stuck in Romania, but then I remembered that I was similarly depressed last April. Paradoxically, it was Adam's dad's death that forced me to cut the crap and stop being depressed. It's funny how worried I get every time I've gone through a few weeks without masturbating. I always enjoy the sex -- I get much more stimulation, sniff lots of pheromones and get comfort and safety signals from contact with my baby. I also do always (if I'm not falling asleep) desire the sex; whether it's an itch in the vaginal area or a need to be close to Adam, I desire it. What I haven't been desiring of late is fantasizing and ... um steaming my own clam. The fantasy process has been seeming tedious and lengthy. And I get so jealous when I see that Adam can take care of himself in 5 minutes! After talking to him a couple days ago, though, I started feeling better. He suggested that fantasizing, like almost anything else, is a skill that to be practiced, which I think is extremely aptly put. I will be breaking from my pill in a couple days (and I'm not entirely positive that I will resume the extended regime) and I will also start reading some amateur erotica. Ain't nothing like amateur erotica to get a mostly straight girl back on track! In other but equally relevant news, I am getting really fit. I'm going to get certified as a personal trainer within the year, and am quite excited. Also, the flooring on the first level is almost done. Everything in the house is covered with sawdust, and will probably continue to be so for a little while.

2005-03-10T23:03:00.000-08:00

One of the most interesting people I have met at SU is Fosse Fox. She is big, blonde, from Texas, authoritative and scary enough for me to want to spank her. It is likely, though, that she would not want me to spank her.
Her poetry is also quite good. Quite good.

2005-03-02T19:12:00.000-08:00

I ramblingly drafted this thing a few days ago:

On my way home this evening I found myself thinking, as I am often wont to be, about men and women. Being an adept of an evolutionary, biological approach to dating and mating, and in a committed relationship with a an, I frequently have the opportunity to reflect about the ways in which men and women differ. My train of thought this evening started with Adam's cousin, Lian, who is interested in a Psychology major. I then thought about the other people I know with an interest in Psychology -- and realized they are all female! Why is that, I wondered? Well, perhaps because the knowledge and manipulation of human psychology is women's weapon of choice in the context of evolution, just as force is men's. Women are physically weaker than men. They cannot attempt to obtain men's necessary contribution to the reproductive process (intercourse, relative/temporary fidelity, protection, etc.) through the use of force, as men do. "Use of force", by the way, does not mean direct, physical subjection of women by men: men compete for mates by showing off their strength (financial and social success and intellectual recognition as well as a ripped body), and they can occasionally be expected to put it to the test. At the same time, men often obtain mates simply by choosing a woman and whisking her away. In paternalistic societies, wives are chosen (by the groom's father, perhaps with some imput from the groom), and that's it.
Things being thus, women need to develop a skill that will allow them to make the most of the situation. This is psychological insight. Psychological insight, for women, is the equivalent of strength for men. Evolutionarily speaking, proficiency in psychology is inextricably linked to physical weakness and societal subservience.

2005-02-28T22:13:00.000-08:00

I guess I have to resign myself to the thought that blogging is not something I can do with great constancy, at least in times of remodeling. I noticed as I was logging in today that the last time I had posted anything had been in mid-December. A week or so after that we moved into the new place -- known as Mega Mansion -- which is very sweet and spacious. But we decided to remodel (paint, put in new floors, etc.) which, given the size of the place, is no small feat. We are almost done painting (there is one curved wall left in the hall and perhaps a couple walls in the downstairs bedroom), and we have almost decided on the flooring. We'll probably be done by Fall.
In other news, I have started tutoring. I'm volunteering with a pretty impressive community education education, Literacy Source. I enjoy it perhaps to a scary extent, and sometimes find myself entertaining the idea of a Master's in Education (my alma mater's program is one of the very best). Another excitingly daunting prospect I am considering is a double major, in PoliSci and English. Since I'm already a junior, however, it might be a little late. It'll soon be time to start making some money.
And also, yeah, I am very likely getting married this summer.

2004-12-12T20:07:00.000-08:00

This is a piglet.

2004-12-12T19:34:00.000-08:00

Dear people,
Over the past 6 weeks or so I found out that overloading is not a piece of cake. This really has been one of my all-time busiest periods of, um, time. But it is all over -- only need to revise one paper -- and I am done.
Quite a few things have taken place, including the fact that we're moving to a new place (after we paint and put in bamboo floors!), that the Romanians have been re-electing the former communist party amidst (credible) allegations of fraud and that I have decided, pretty much, to become a professor.
But more about all that later!

2004-10-27T13:51:00.000-07:00

I've been sick, pretty much on an off for the past couple weeks. The last few days have been particularly bad, with some fever, slight congestion and sore throat, although I did not experience any fully-blown flu symptoms. In other words, I've just been feeling like crap.
On Saturday, while Adam was losing money at a friendly poker game, my friend Noelle and I watched "Kissing Jessica Stein", which she had seen and loved many times before. I met Noelle on Nerve a couple months ago. She is incredibly bright and has a pleasant, sexy way of carrying herself. She is fairly Sex and the City-ish, actually: accomplished, successful, independent, believing that most men are obnoxious and interchangeable and that women are much better -- without being a lesbian. The movie was cutesy and fun (and the Salon review I linked to does a pretty good job of pointing out pluses and minuses). I appreciated the message: go out there and explore your sexuality; even if you find that you really are as straight-laced as you think, the exploration itself will do you good. But I didn't appreciate the implicit commentary on men, seen as freaks or assholes that you end up having to love anyway because they're there and they're kinda cute and you're straight.
Women have to get over feeling superior to men just because they cannot understand them. I think that, because men don't have periods and are, historically speaking, the "intellectual sex", women expect them to behave rationally at all times. When they fail to do so (which they inevitably do, because they are human beings endowed with penises), they are bumped down to the status of animals in the eyes of women. Unfair? Certainly, especially since men don't seem to expect women to act rationally at all times, and tend not to think lowly of them when they throw menstrual hissy fits. Let's face it. Objectively speaking, there is not much of a difference between a man neglecting to shop for groceries because he has lost track of time in a strip club (for when the penis stands, the head gets buried in the ground) and a woman neglecting to shop for groceries because she is feeling moody because of her period (for when the uterus bleeds, the head gets buried in the ground).

2004-10-20T21:29:00.000-07:00

Perhaps I should write more about unlikely nasty and raunchy topics, for that seems to be what the public wants. The last 5 searches that brought visitors to the Illy Funpack were: "public masturbators" (an old-time favorite), "gum shields", "Hialeah porn", "aroused vagina" and "sounds coming from my parents' bedroom". Google only lists three websites that contain the latter phrase.

2004-10-20T21:19:00.000-07:00

I am so happy about the Red Sox going to the World Series! If I weren't suffering from a mild form of flu I would write more -- but hope to follow up tomorrow.

2004-10-17T22:27:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday I went to the Opera and thought it was silly. I am taking an Arts class which has a lot of co-curricular requirements, such as going to the Opera, to ballet recitals, museums, etc. -- which is an infinitely cool concept.
The Opera, however, was silly. I saw Verdi's "Rigoletto" -- fairly cheesy plot, some funny moments, some drama and some unjustifiably loud singing. If I had seen the same opera some 150 years ago, however, I would have been blown away, I am sure. But this is 2004. We have microphones and amplifiers. We don't need to watch plump menopausal women play nubile daughter roles just because they are the only ones with the voices to sing the part. That's just silly.

2004-10-08T20:04:00.000-07:00

Also, is anybody else irritated by the buzz surrounding the presidential debates? I mean, are there people who care about the debates? Seriously?

2004-10-08T19:52:00.000-07:00

I have spent a pleasant day going to the gym and doing laundry, and now I feel comfortably fried. Just wanted to mention that I was tickled by the fact that Shtreimel was intrigued by my blog's title. Hassidic blogs -- he links to a few -- are pretty damn interesting.

2004-10-05T21:56:00.000-07:00

I am back from Miami, where I spent a weekend doing such fun stuff as eating in sukkas, going through the drawers of Adam's deceased father (they're going to sell the house to a Hasid who will cosmetize it and then sell it to a filthy rich Orthodox family who believes in living modestly), taking cold showers and gawking at saucy Rabbis' daughters.
I'm happy to see that my tales of (planned-for) conjugal depravity have brought more people to the blog. As I'm sure Paris Hilton realized, the frank admission of sexual enjoyment is a girl's best friend!

2004-09-29T22:23:00.000-07:00

Oh man! I've found it! This is something I did when I was in 11th grade. I had been trying to trace it for quite a while. My scenario is the third one, called Trimming Roses. Now, reading it 4 years later, I wonder what the hell I was talking about.

2004-09-26T19:32:00.000-07:00

Weee! After 6 days of readjusting-to-home-with-my-baby-temporarily-away hell, I am finally feeling better. Jet lag had a lot to do with my miserable mood, I am sure. But now I have settled in and made friends with the place again.
The trip was extremely interesting from a variety of points of view. I enjoyed my time in New York greatly -- although I realized I don't want to actually live there. In spite of the city's countless assets, I think I would get sick too often in New York to be able to enjoy it. Adam got sick after we had been there a week. I got sick after having been in Romania for a week. Polluted air is not good for us.
Speaking of us, my family absolutely adored Adam. I think they still don't take him entirely seriously, because of his youthful and extremely gregarious manner, but they certainly think much more highly of him.
Also speaking of us, we are finally going to go ahead and sleep with other people. We had certainly talked about it before, but I don't think either of us was fully ready. We had a couple of good conversations about the topic on our trip, though, and now we're ready to swing. (So if anybody knows of attractive couples or females looking for sweet, intimate and naughty encounters with a sizzling, cultivated, libertarian couple, please let me know. Um, thanks.) I am actually quite curious about how this will turn out. I think we will enjoy ourselves greatly and I think that our bond will only be affected positively. But I think that, because we will be sharing our intimacy with people (or bringing people into our intimacy by telling each other about our adventures on the side), we might take a little bit of the veneer of Big Love romance out of the relationship. In other words, we might have to be so secure with each other that we won't be able to afford to keep each other on our toes -- for you can't keep your partner on their toes when you're swinging. On the other hand, though, I think that's what we're looking for. Because we are committed to being together and we are very secure with each other, and realize that it can get monotonous in the long run, we're outsourcing the keeping-on-one's-toes part. Adam is the one searching for the exhilaration of seduction, since he finds that emotional intimacy is the best part of a sexual encounter. Me, uncharacteristically given my gender, am the one who's looking to get laid, and who thinks that emotional intimacy is a drag, if not inappropriate in a sexual encounter -- I am being purposefully crude, although I am, in fairness, less emotionally available than him. And it's not out of an unwillingness or inability to sympathize, for I do like to share people's emotions. I think I am simply a fairly private person. But I am getting better at it. Adam is a fantastic teacher, and I am starting to consciously enjoy flirtation and courtship.
Will write more very soon about my saddeningly Lefty Social Policy class. (What was I thinking when I chose it? Social policy shouldn't exist!) I might actually ask your help in a couple matters.

2004-09-15T09:06:00.000-07:00

Today Romania celebrates the first day of the new school year. Slutty chic is de rigueur among the students. Some teachers' unions are on strike, which they are every year around this time. My parents tell me that my high school, the foremost in the school district, has been completely made over, outfitted with granite and marble and the like. The money came from, you've guessed it, the district administration, i.e. the taxpayers. And also, in case you were wondering, no addition has been made to the school library or labs. The money was used exclusively to purchase luxurious fixtures. Oh, dear God...
So let's talk about the food, which is ghastly. The paradoxical thing is that the raw materials available, though not numerous, are good quality. Pork, chicken and beef are plentiful, as are dairy products and mainly pork-based deli meats, vegetables are fairly seasonal and consist of potatoes, squash, eggplant, tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbage, cauliflower, peppers, carrots, celery and lettuce and fruits range from the locally produced, such as apples, plums, apricots, peaches and pears to the imported, such as bananas and citrus fruit. Romanians, however, suffer from a chronic inability to cook. They resent to mix things. Their idea of a meal is a chunky piece of meat, boiled, broiled or fried with some onions, served with potatoes, or minced meat, gristle and fat grilled, served with potatoes, or bean or cabbage soup, adventurous additions to which are are paprika and black pepper. Pasta is not eaten very often and rice is mainly used in soups. Vegetables are used sparingly, usually one vegetable to complement a meat dish, such as stuffed peppers. Dishes are usually greasy -- the cooking oil of choice is sunflower oil.
Fundamentally, it is a matter of taste. They like things plain, very plain. Which is not so surprising, given the fact that they have had to deal with extreme scarcity over the past 50 years, when one had to manage food very carefully lest one should starve. But still, it is a damn shame.

2004-09-12T13:07:00.000-07:00

Alright kids, so, after 10 days in a hellishly polluted New York, I am back in the Old Country, Romania, visiting parents and friends. On the good side, it's not as awful as I was expecting it to be: the people look nice, the neighborhood looks ok, my family is doing fine. On the bad side, the food is just ghastly. I have a theory as to why this is so, which I will share with you later on.
Also, my paternal grandparents are distraught that I am living with a man without being married. They believe that marriage is good because knowing that their union is state-sanctioned forces people to stay together, even if they may be tempted to stray. When I asked my grandfather whether it was the concern that his wife might suffer or the knowledge that the state would punish him that kept him from straying, he replied: "the knowledge that the state would punish me!" You gotta love an ex-Colonel!

2004-08-30T23:25:00.000-07:00

This is a perfect example of why state-run health insurance plans are preposterous. Basically, one social group (in this case, the younger population) ends up paying for a completely different social group (in this case, the elderly), who ends up being more than willing to milk the system for what it's worth. To wit, Ibuprofen is one of the top three most prescribed drugs -- look, you don't need a doctor to tell you to take a painkiller when you're in pain. But if you can, sure, you'll visit your MD and have a friendly chat with them at no cost to you. And you can't even claim that it is fair because, eventually, the younger population will grow old and benefit in its turn: people who are currently young may die way before their time, not need much medical care or choose alternative healthcare solutions. Also, why are people covered for Ibuprofen? Just like, why the hell does my health insurance, for which I pay an insanely subsidized $600 per year, cover my birth control pills, given that I am an alien and haven't paid one cent to Washington State (the source of the subsidy) in my life? And what is that troubling piece of news about Prozac prescribed to children?

2004-08-29T23:55:00.000-07:00

My left gluteus medius is hurting: on Friday Adam and I went on a delightful trip to the Olympic Peninsula. We stayed the night in Forks, at the Misty Valley Inn (which is nice and very well suited for poontang-related activities such as honeymoons and anniversaries, given the fact that it embodies the traditional idea of romance: seclusion in a spectacular location, ornate rooms and cuisine, a slightly overbearing hostess and two White Eskimo dogs) and then hiked for half the day Saturday at Hurricane Ridge. The hike was fantastic! We saw cool plants, quail and deer, which was great. We didn't see bears, which was also great. We might have pushed it a little bit, though, especially on the way back, so we are fairly beat up today. But it was worth it.I'm going to New York on Wednesday, and then on to Romania. I'll be back on the 21st. Since I'll be in New York for much of the Republican Convention, I expect I'll have interesting stories to tell, so I shall keep you posted.

2004-08-22T18:00:00.000-07:00

[Disclaimer: the following post is intended for entertainment purposes only, and should not be interpreted as a solicitation of prostitution.]
My boyfriend's birthday is coming up and I want to buy him -- and perhaps me, too -- some ass. In the course of my research on the subject, I have become enamored with the beauty of the way in which the escort business thrives completely outside the confines of state regulation.
Perhaps the main argument of supporters of extensive regulation is that government involvement makes the particular sector in question safer for the consumers. If there are no laws, they say, then everybody can do whatever they want! The quality of products will drop and the price will rise! The poor consumer will be ripped off!
Well, not so fast. The escort industry has extremely powerful checks and balances, in the shape of consumer reviews, such as the Erotic Review. In a business (not unlike the majority of businesses) where reputation is the most powerful marketing tool, customer satisfaction is key. And you can really see market forces in action: providers with bad reviews tend to charge less and most agencies (employing several providers) tend to have consistent reviews (good or bad).
On the other hand, the main practical argument (leaving aside the moral issue) of those in favor of the ban on prostitution is that it is dangerous to the women. If you allow women to walk around making themselves available to all sorts of personages, who knows what psycho may get his hands on them and cut them into pieces?
Well, once again, not so fast. Escorts have several -- extremely effective -- ways of ensuring their safety. A very large number of providers require references, i.e. the name and contact information of providers that the client has already seen, before setting up an appointment. A client with unsatisfactory behavior will clearly not make it far. Also, almost all providers check in with a friend when the client arrives or they arrive at the client's place (and they check the client's ID, too). Clearly, if something happens, the identity of the likely wrongdoer will be known -- and what better incentive is there to behave nicely?
So, there you go. The escort business: totally illegal (at least in Washington State), yet very safe for both consumers and providers. Now, ain't that pretty?

2004-08-22T17:58:00.000-07:00

Aha! I have been involved in yet more networking: IHS alum Angelee Stamps is currently in beautiful Washington State, working on a Senatorial campaign. We had a lot of fun hanging out yesterday.

2004-08-19T14:51:00.000-07:00

So, you're wondering where the hell I've been? Well, alright then!
Last Friday Adam and I had dinner with friends at their house in Issaquah. (I love the Native American place names in Western Washington! Tacoma, Spokane, Kitsap, Issaquah -- they're so lovely!) The next day, both I and the hostess came down with food poisoning. But while I only suffered (moderately) on Saturday, she was still in hospital yesterday. Hope she gets better soon!
Other than that, well, the Olympics are on! I must confess that I really like the Olympics. Whenever somebody wins a big race, I get teary and feel a knot in my throat. It's great! As an ESPN anchor remarked last week, the Olympics are not so much about sports as they are about schmaltz. I mean, sure, there are world-class athletes competing in extraordinary feats of strength and skill (except for such events as synchronized diving and trampoline, which are kinda silly, really) and beating world records, blah blah blah, but ... where's the sports? For sports to feel like sports you need time. You need the anticipation building up to the season or the tournament, the excitement of the tournament or the season, the reporters, the gossip, the obnoxious or outrageous characters, the oh-no-you-didn't statements, the controversies and so on. You get a little bit of that at the Olympics, but it is all so crammed into two weeks that it feels surreal. Which it is. Allow me an analogy: the Olympics are like the whipped cream, while sports are like the mocha (yeah, so I live in Seattle!). Still, since it looks like my patience for most movies has dropped to a level similar to my Dad's, who hasn't been able to sit through a single flick in 15 years, the Olympics are one of the only pretexts I have left to sit in front of the television clutching a tissue, tears running down my cheeks. Oh, yeah, baby!

2004-08-12T23:36:00.000-07:00

The deck of one of the comfortable, $200,000 + condos in my Seattle neighborhood has been sporting a communist flag (deep red with yellow hammer and sickle intertwined) for the past 2 months -- ever since the new tenant/owner moved in, I assume. Today, for the first time, I noticed that an American flag had been added to keep its Commie buddy company. It certainly doesn't look like anybody is concerned about the display. Which indicates three things:
a) the Cold War ended a looong time ago;
b) Seattle is Lefty Central;
c) Seattle is the epitome of whatever-dude-ism.
Before the display of the American flag, I had half a mind to call on the guy, in neighborly fashion, of course, and have a chat with him. But now I am positively creeped out.

2004-08-12T23:30:00.000-07:00

I have just seen Spinsanity's Bryan Keefer on the Daily Show, and was very much impressed. The book looks supremely interesting, too, and I should be getting it in the mail shortly.

2004-08-12T17:35:00.000-07:00

Another IHS alum, Ana Porumbrica, is interning with the Digital Freedom Network. Check out what she's written here and here.

2004-08-10T22:06:00.000-07:00

I bought 1900 House on eBay last week (after being shown a fragment at the IHS seminar) and finished watching the whole thing today. It is fantastic! It really is funny how quickly one gets used to comfort. I, for instance, didn't have a dishwasher until I moved to Seattle, and now non-dishwasher safe items keep piling up in the sink. The moral? Amenities and appliances are wonderful, but you can -- and you should when you must -- do without them.

2004-08-10T21:37:00.000-07:00

It has been so hot recently that I am reluctant to keep the computer on long enough to blog.
But.
I just wanted to say that Adam and I went to a wedding on Sunday, which was alright. Politically-charged comment: the most expeditious way to resolve the gay marriage controversy is for the State to stop issuing marriage licenses altogether. If people want to live together, be monogamous (or not), raise children as a family, that's fantastic, but it's none of the State's business. It is inequitable to treat married couples preferentially (tax advantages, etc.): maybe the rest of us single folks are poorer communicators, lousier lovers or just plain uglier -- why punish us for that? Besides, if the State stops marriage licenses, the danger of the State sanctioning types of relationships that are reprehensible to some of its citizens will disappear.

2004-08-07T18:24:00.000-07:00

Last night I watched Bend It Like Beckham on TV. Thought it was cute. Failed to enjoy it thoroughly, though, due to PMS -- which I have experienced three times so far this month because of the darn Mini-Pill!
You know, I do believe that there is something fishy going on as far as the prescription of hormonal birth control is concerned. It seems that doctors prescribe it too liberally and are too willing to glaze over the possible health risks. Long-term methods, such as Depo-Provera and Norplant, are especially prone to cause side effects such as significant weight gain and menstrual irregularities -- and yet they are widely prescribed to college students and lower-income populations, the consensus being that those populations cannot be trusted to remember to take the Pill every day. Who cares if you gain 50 pounds while on birth control? We just really really want you not to get pregnant!
I don't think doctors necessarily act in bad faith when they glaze over the health risks and just prescribe birth control. I also don't think they are sold out to the Man (the Person?). Rather, I think the indiscriminate passion for birth control is another madness-of-the-crowd type phenomenon, kind of like the barbiturate craze in the '70s or the current marijuana-does-awful-things-to-you insanity. When I was in high school, I remember being shown countless "educational" flicks about how devastating pregnancy is to teenagers and young women. Almost invariably, the girl who got pregnant was kicked out by her parents and had to raise her offspring in a homeless shelter, often having to become a prostitute and/or do drugs in the process. Um... it doesn't have to happen that way now, does it? Sure, having a kid when you're not ready can screw things up, but so can having your period every week or, well, getting breast or cervical cancer -- all fairly common side effects of the Pill.

2004-08-06T19:07:00.000-07:00

So Mary K. is out and able to see her ... boy? man? rape victim? children's father? I like Mary K.! I believe her situation is unusual, and I cannot really put myself in her shoes and experience empathy, but it's pretty clear to me that she is no sex offender.
The whole statutory rape (or "rape of a child", as they now call it in Washington state) legislation is kinda silly. I mean, from the formal point of view, the age of consent varies from state to state and is sometimes different depending on the gender of the partners. From a practical point of view, it is obvious that individuals reach maturity (sexual and of discernment) at ... um ... Individual ages, a fact that a blanket piece of legislation can never accommodate.
What would be an alternative? Well, we could just get rid of the age of consent and consider each case of alleged rape on an individual basis. It is ridiculous to treat sexual relations between an adult and any minor (one stops being a minor anywhere between the ages of 12 and 18, depending on the place they live -- doesn't that sound strange to you?) as rape. Vili very clearly didn't resent Mary K.'s advances. He impregnated her, for God's sake! Twice! Besides, rape very rarely leaves no physical marks (bruises, tears, etc.), especially in the case of a child, which makes establishing the facts easy. And finally, it is wrong to assume that children are unable to express what has happened to them. They may not be articulate about it, but they will be extremely vocal when something has upset them!
So, yeah, we should all be able to have lawful sex with 16 year-old hotties!

2004-08-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

I have added two new excellent links: Agoraphilia is CSUN professor Glen Whitman, who is quite brilliant and extremely attractive (which I can say, being legal and not one of his students); Law Legislation and Lunacy are Beloit undergrads David Youngberg and Mike Mills, who are also brilliant and attractive in that geeky libertarian Honors Econ student way, which is very hot.

2004-08-05T14:41:00.000-07:00

It really is amazing how much time I waste being miserable. I spend between 4 and 6 days out of the month unable to function properly because I am either sobbing maniacally or collapsed in a catatonic stupor. I am starting to suspect that I may be slightly manic-depressive. It tears me up, of course, because my mind is my best feature -- and thus the vicious circle is reinforced.
But let us not talk about it anymore.
I have been trying to meet women of late. That's right, I've been looking for pussy for both Adam and me in an attempt at: a) keeping the sex hot and b) regaining my "girl one fucks" status as well as retaining my "girl one be-partners" position. And man-oh-man, is it difficult to score with women! I now understand how great my appeal must have been while I was on the market -- for I really delivered!
I am becoming increasingly interested in Economics, and am contemplating a second major in the field. The question is, can I ramp up on the math in little enough time?

2004-06-20T19:14:00.000-07:00

I am such an utter vacation schlumph! I spent the greater part of today playing The Sims on xBox. The sun is shining (still pretty intensely, even at 7:20 PM -- because we're in the North!), it is hot, there are sports on TV... weeeeeeeee, this is the summer of Illy!

2004-06-19T15:44:00.000-07:00

My favorite thing about summer is the smell. I grew up in the city, in a place whose climate was "temperate". Summers almost always got scorching hot, mainly because the tree-to-concrete building ratio in my neighborhood was approximately 1 to 25. When I was little we didn't have air conditioning, so I had to master the art of using blinds, curtains and sheets soaked in water to keep the heat out -- which I took as a challenge and enjoyed immensely. But I digress...
I must have been around 10 when I realized that summer days had at least three distinct smells: fresh and somewhat dewy in the morning, hot and dusty in the afternoon, and cool, musty and sweet in the evening. I used to love going out on my balcony and sniffing at the air -- it was like drowning in summer, in the feeling that I was free from homework, that there was nothing I was expected to do.
I think I stopped being able to identify the three smells during the summer before my freshman year of college. I was tired, stressed and broken-hearted. I had no capacity for trivial enjoyment.
But yesterday morning, when I walked into the living room and opened the deck doors, I recognized the summer morning smell. It was glorious. I was very happy.

2004-06-17T13:30:00.000-07:00

I am also happy to see that the trend has not yet waned: the three most recent Kosher Piglets visitors were searching for: "masturbators", "dogs porn" and "asscracks". Keep it up, fellows! You make Kosher Piglets the great place it is!

2004-06-17T12:53:00.000-07:00

I am on vacation and on the mini-pill, which contribute to a general sense of well-being. I should, in consequence, be willing to write as much as I am able.
A number of things have happened over the past few months, the most important of which I shall summarize below.
1. Adam's dad died. He had brain surgery in April to remove a brain tumor; the surgery was successful, but he developed a massive amount of clots and died of lung failure. I had never been involved in a person's death before, and the experience was distressing.
2. Adam started working. Bacon on the table!
3. I volunteered at First Place, a school for children from poor or homeless families. I tutored kids in Math and Composition, and realized that random tutoring sessions have no effect whatsoever.
4. I got my school mojo back! For the first time in 4 years, I am enjoying school and doing very well academically.
5. I have a nephew of sorts! Adam's brother Tal and his wife, Mirela, had a kid. He looks plump, dark and handsome.
6. I feel that I have become more discriminating and straightforward and less mechanically nice. Which I believe is a virtue. My physical strength and stamina have also improved a good deal.

I also have plans for this summer. They include:
1. Studying a bit of Math.
2. Developing an A.I. entity.
3. Going swimming regularly.
4. Taking a trip on my own for a few days.
5. Volunteering.

2004-03-17T23:36:00.000-08:00

Oh, ok. Now I understand. St. Patrick's Day is about drinking! Cheers!

2004-03-17T21:34:00.000-08:00

I am not feeling beneficent, so be warned.
1. What's the deal with St. Patrick's day? Although Jewish, I can understand Christmas as an ecumenical, present-swapping occasion; I can even understand Easter as a celebration of spring and fertility. But St. Patrick's? It's a goddamned saint's day! I, too, love the Irish, but why should I care about their patron saint? I don't want my MSN homepage to put up a green background and a four-leaved clover next to the date in honor of St. Patrick's! Does anybody in Ireland celebrate the 4th of July? I mean, come on!
2. The Atkins diet strikes me as one of the most unbelievably ridiculous fads ever. Even worse than mullets, for, while sporting a mullet could only have harmed you in the event of coming upon somebody with a sense of style and a violent behavior problem, eating lots of meat and no fiber is a guaranteed way to screw up your GI tract. Because the Atkins diet pisses me off, I have decided to perform a futilely heroic gesture: I pledge to eat one big, delicious, carb-and-sugar packed chocolate biscuit every day until I stop noticing Atkins products in the supermarket. I shall set up a guestbook for anybody who wishes to do the same and desires to share their experience.

2004-03-11T23:13:00.000-08:00

Terrorist attack in Spain. Wowza. Amusing about an otherwise grim situation is the claim of newspaper Al-Quds al-Arabi that an al-Quaida-related organization was behind the attack. This makes me entertain interesting thoughts as to the crucial role of the media in the proliferation of terrorism. Would there have been an Osama bin Laden as we know him today without al-Jazeera? It is debatable.

2004-03-10T22:34:00.000-08:00

By the way, this is a missive I sent to a stringer lady.
Here is the original request:
"For our May Body Image story, we are seeking a real
woman age 20-35 who does not live in New York State
who can talk about how the increasing availability of
porn -- who hasn't heard of the Paris Hilton sex
video?- has made her feel worse about her own body
image. Maybe she would say something like "I feel
like guys look at perfect breasts all day long and
then expect me to have perfect breasts."
We need just one or two quotes for this one, but we
need them desperately and we need them today!"
And this is my reply:
"How about a woman for whom the increasing availability of porn has had a positive effect as far as her body image is concerned?
Female porn stars are far from perfect. In professional porn, the great majority of women are short (their being tiny makes the penis of the male co-stars look bigger), with surgically-enhanced parts of the body that, even if they do titillate on screen, would most likely repel the man on the street if he were in their presence. Nobody who watches porn expects or desires their women to look like Jenna Jameson (although she does have a pretty face). The excitement of porn lies in the nasty things that the people on screen do.
As for amateur porn, the "perfect look" is even less of a factor. Amateur porn is about the normal, everyday woman, whose mouth is maybe too big, whose legs are maybe too short, whose ass is too skinny or whose ankles are too thick. It is true that most amateur porn stars are pretty or cute, but most women are pretty or cute if they put on a bit of mascara and lipstick. Men don't watch porn in order to find physically perfect women: they want to see non-abhorrent lasses doing dirty things.
Finally, porn is one of the few image-based industries where beauty is explicitly not of the issue. Any physical "defect" has been and will continue to be featured in porn, from obesity to pimply asses, because people enjoy that. They are curious voyeurs. They enjoy witnessing people that look like people they know being sexual.
I am a great consumer of porn. So is my boyfriend. This doesn't make me feel bad about the way I look. Neither does it make him suggest that I get ass-cheek implants."
[To be very honest, the reason I am including this is that name-dropping porn stars is a guaranteed way to get page hits.]

2004-03-10T21:42:00.000-08:00

I need sex. I am the proverbial insatiable woman, who expects her man to deliver a couple times a day (actually, although that would be very nice, I could settle for a quickie every day or more elaborate intercourse every other day). Adam has been busy the last few days (and has not been doing much other than staring at the computer; he looks pale and haggard; I worry) and I haven't been getting laid. I need sex!
I wonder what exactly goes into my sexual appetite, so to speak. The primary component is the fact that I physically enjoy intercourse (this is not a question of orgasming; that I can always do for myself): it is energizing; it is relaxing; semen has mild anti-depressant qualities. Then, there comes the fact that Adam turns me on: he looks a delightful combination of sweet and nasty, innocent and experienced, and that's really sexy. Then, there's the pill, on which I have been for the past month, and which makes me feel like I am making an investment here, and I need some returns!
Speaking of women and sex, I need to research for a philosophy paper which argues that women and men are indeed different -- both naturally and societally, but the latter because of the former. Also, I am considering writing a little piece on pornography for my Jesuit college's scholastic competition.

2004-03-08T13:55:00.000-08:00

I am coming to you live from Seattle University's computer lab, where the buzzing work atmosphere is pleasantly engaging. It is incredibly nice out. The sky is ubiquitously blue, a rare feat in Seattle, the sun is shining (and brightly so; I am pretty sure that, of all the places I have been, the sun shines brightest in Seattle -- when it does), and it is warm with the perversity suitable for a place where it rains on approximately 183 days of the year, but where one can sunbathe in early March.
It has been a bizzare couple months. I have had the Miami Vice apartment to myself for 5 weeks, gone -- at the same time though with slightly less impetus than Adam -- through states of indecision about my near-future activity plans, and started taking the pill, which has gravely accentuated my psychotic episodes, but made them Swiss-watch regular.
I realize that I haven't really been doing much of late by way of putting my mind to work. School is not nearly enough to make me feel like I am accomplishing something, and I need the feeling that I am being useful. I'm not satisfied (but what else is new?) with my level of energy. I get tired or feel unwilling to do stuff too often for my own taste -- yet I know that this is largely how I am. What I haven't been doing, pretty much for the last couple years, is to force myself to become engaged in an activity. I've been cutting myself too much slack. That's gotta change.

2004-02-29T20:46:00.000-08:00

The problem with embarking on new creative endeavors is context. If you intend to start writing a column, painting a picture, or building an installation, it is easy to come up with a plan (even greatly detailed) of what you want to say and how you want to say it. The difficulty lies in placing your work in the proper context, figuring out the amount of references and allusions you wish to imbue it with, answering questions such as: "Do I want people to know or just to imagine they know what I am talking about?" and "Do I want this piece to be actually about my own or my mother's neurosis?"
Yup, the context is the bitch.
So, after I decided that I would start blogging again (it is good, makes one feel intelligent and productive), I spent a bit of time wondering what kind of context I would set my blog in. Do I want it to resemble a diary? In other words, do I want to chronicle the class content and social interactions at my small liberal arts college and the sex I have with my man? Not really - I like to put my slightly obsessive analytical capacity to good use, and overanalyzing one's daily activities is, well, kinda weird. Do I, then, want to comment on the news, like so many admirable bloggers do? I think not - although I enjoy The News as an institution, I lack either Jon Stewart's detached perspective or Andrew Sullivan's biting engagement. In other words, I would only get riled up, and I would suck.
Then what do I want to do already? Well, how about I just write about stuff that I think about? How about I hook Kosher Piglets up to my mind, without setting any guidelines beforehand, and take my waves of thought with their respective references and allusions as they come?
That's narcissistic! I love it!

2004-02-23T23:17:00.000-08:00

New beginnings are good every once in a while, so here I am.