While We Sleep: A Warning

I live half a world away and I’m terrified.
I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to live it.
I read the book 20 years ago and I can’t believe it doesn’t seem all that farfetched anymore…

Drifting Through

Screen Shot 2017-07-09 at 4.54.35 PM“I was asleep before… that’s how we let it happen. They suspended the Constitution. They said it would be temporary.”

This is Offred’s stark warning.

A narration of regret.

Her name’s not really Offred. It’s Jane. Or June. Or something that I can’t remember because her name no longer matters. She is no longer a human with an identity, she is the property of Fred. And she is the main character in Hulu’s series The Handmaid’s Tale, based on the 1985 Margaret Atwood novel.

Offred is a Handmaid in Gilead, the religious fundamentalist reincarnation of the United States. After a terrorist attack and environmental disasters left the republic weakened, a strong-arm theocracy took hold. Patriarchal control was the new order. Women, no longer allowed to work, read, vote or hold property. Children, taken at will from parents who refuse to conform. Traitors, hung along the river, government spies around…

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A Widow’s Rage Defense of Patton Oswalt’s Engagement

Grief is a very personal journey and you are absolutely right, NO ONE has any right to tell a person when they should be ready or not to move on.
I haven’t lost a spouse but I lost a baby before term and it’s the other way around. You get the whole “oh it’s been a year, you should be over it by now”, “at least you still have your daughter!”.

Erica Roman Blog

Yesterday I was very excited to see that the comedian Patton Oswalt had announced his engagement to Meredith Salenger. Now, anyone who know’s me knows that I don’t follow the lives of celebrities at all. I’ve made an exception for him. Our spouses both unexpectedly died within 3 days of each other and both of us have processed our grief journey fairly openly. (Of course, his platform is a mite bigger than mine lol)

On the 102nd day of his journey (105 for me) he wrote in a Facebook post,

“I was face-down and frozen for weeks. It’s 102 days later and I can confidently say I have reached a point where I’m crawling. Which, objectively, is an improvement. Maybe 102 days later I’ll be walking.”

I shared that post on my own page because I could connect to that place he was in. No longer frozen, but the…

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An Open Letter To Donald Trump From Some Angry Women.

Drifting Through

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Dear Mr. Trump… can I call you Mr. Trump? Is that ok? I want you to be happy, that’s very important to me.

Before I get started, let me say this letter isn’t from all women. The Trumpettes surely won’t approve of this message. But this is from most women.

We see right through you. We have all known you at some point. Your ways are not unfamiliar to us. We see through you because we’ve been dealing with you our whole lives.

We heard you call women pigs. And disgusting. And stupid. And bimbos.

We watched as you called a former Ms. Universe “Ms. Piggy” and then spent four days continuing to insult her.

We see your weakness. Your lust for attention at any cost, your need to denigrate women. We see all of it. And we’re mad.

Yes. We’re mad. And fired up. And here’s the thing about us……

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My Best Friend, the Rapist

It all boils down to consent, doesn’t it? And respect.

She said no but he said yes. This, right there.

Afternoon of Sundries


I knew him, a bright and cheerful bashful fellow; slender limbed, yet short, deep eyes a beautiful chocolate brown fringed with lashes any girl would envy and unruly hair seemingly trying to escape gravity- he was possibly the first man I ever loved.

We talked for hours. We hung out. We were free the first time in our lives- college, oh boy! Watch out! Perfectly like siblings, even though we had opposing views and often argued our points passionately over a beer. We loved revolving sushi bars and loud punk rock.

After a good while of juggling books, classes, schedules and music I introduced him to a lovely girl I had known not as long surely, but someone I thought he could appreciate.

I was of course right, after all I loved him best and I just knew (in that stupid prideful youthful way). They dated a long time. Differences…

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Enough with comments about “bodice rippers,” please.

“What exactly is a bodice ripper? It’s an old-fashioned, pejorative term for romance. Early plots often featured heroines who were “gently coerced” into sex. In other words, the sex becomes consensual after a time, the heroine falls for her swashbuckling hero who looks like Fabio, and they go off and make lots of babies.”

I used to read a lot of Mills & Boon and I still have a couple of favourite authors but last time I picked up a random one, it had a decidedly non-consensual flavour and I had to put it down.

I also put down a novel by a current best selling author because I couldn’t stomach the constant “he knows what’s good for me even when I don’t know myself”…

Romance should make you feel good, and happy, and give you tingles, not shivers of unease.

Yay for romance!

Rosanna Leo

The other day, an author pal of mine shared a comment that she’d received on a review about her romance book being a “bodice ripper.”

Seriously, folks. It’s 2016.

I’m done with these comments. Honestly, can’t people think of another way to describe romance novels?

First of all, I have read this friend’s work and although she writes historical romance, in no way, shape or form could her books be considered the same as the traditional interpretation of a bodice ripper.

What exactly is a bodice ripper? It’s an old-fashioned, pejorative term for romance. Early plots often featured heroines who were “gently coerced” into sex. In other words, the sex becomes consensual after a time, the heroine falls for her swashbuckling hero who looks like Fabio, and they go off and make lots of babies.

Honestly, very few people write this stuff any more and most of us modern romance…

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The Price of Skin – a personal essay on the ownership of women’s bodies

Great essay. Wow is right.
You know, I’m still confused with how the world at large sees women as the ‘weaker sex’ yet women are the ones told to cover up so men aren’t tempted…
I grew up in France, I’ve been topless on a beach, I live in NZ now where girls at the swimming pool or the beach hide in their towels.

My kids know there is nothing wrong with nudity or sexuality. It’s important to me that they know that.

Thank you for this post!!

The Likkleone

I just got my grades back for my final assignment for my last unit and I’m so happy. I got 87% which is a High Distinction and my tutor started her comments with “Wow”. Maybe I’m bragging a little bit but I’m SO STOKED. It took a lot of work and there were elements I was concerned about but turns out I needn’t have worried. She made two comments total for the whole thing and they were both compliments on how it was going. I’ve posted my essay below – it’s a bit longer than anything I’d usually post but hopefully you don’t mind.

Aaargh! That’s such a relief. I definitely deserve a glass of champagne tonight. And it just so happens I’m going to a champagne degustation in 1.5 hours – how handy is that?

***

I’m standing on the front steps of our house. Naked. It’s summer and a breeze ruffles…

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