Old diaries

Old diaries

Should be disposed of carefully.

Do not lay them

in a muddy grave

-they will rise through the soil.

Fire, or acid, should do the trick.

schminnocence

When people talk about kids, they throw the word "innocent" around a lot. I've noticed this even more since I started working in an elementary school (in Korea, by the way). Innocence is considered  an inherently good quality for a child to have, and is often spoken of by adults in awe, like it's some ideal and magical state that one way or another crumbles and is lost by the time we hit six or seven, or earlier. How precious! How fragile! How ridiculous
.
So innocence, what is it?  Lack of guilt, a perfect conscience, a clean slate? Lack of knowledge, naivety, gullibility? Purity? Goodness? I have heard the term used to express all of these.

People would have you believe innocence is something to be valued and something to be protected and something which cannot be regained.
(Just like 'virginity', another bullshit term which only serves to commodify sexuality. What's the term for someone who hasn't been snowboarding, who has never had a foot massage, who has never driven a car?

"You're just a virgin who can't drive." -Way harsh, Tai, but the words speak volumes. There are no labels for people who haven't snowboarded, been massaged, driven, yet we ascribe the term 'virgin' to somebody who lacks this one specific experience. And a particularly heterocentric one at that, as usually it's applied to someone who has not yet had a penis in their vagina, or a vagina on their penis, no matter how many dicks they have sucked or clitori they have licked to orgasm.) -Okay, I digress a little, but like 'virginity', innocence is something we are seemingly born with, something pure and special that is associated with youth, that we want our children to retain for as long as possible and that once it's gone, we are forever changed. (barf.)

When I was undertaking research for my thesis (which I have yet to write about on this blog, whoops) I spoke to sex education teachers, sexual health educators and youth group leaders about their experiences with young people and their quests for sexual health information. The issue of innocence cropped up in numerous interviews.. when was too young to start providing that information and what negative effect may it have on them -there was this acceptance that education was necessary but oh wasn't it a pity they couldn't just remain 'innocent' a little longer?  Education is not a dirty word, knowing about sex does not make a kid less wholesome or more 'guilty' than knowing about flowers or pokemon.

When is innocence lost? The first time a kid tries to find out if they can reach the cookie jar when their dad's not looking? The first time they start to doubt the existence of the tooth fairy? The first time they accidentally see an erect penis when mom forgets to delete her browsing history? And what, suddenly they're not as perfect as they once were, they're tainted? Fuck that! It's called learning, it's called critical thinking, it's called curiosity. These are skills and values to be encouraged in kids, not considered some sort of perverse development that is threatening grown-ups' idealised notion of 'innocence'. 

I don't believe in innocence (apart from the judicial kind). Ignorance is another story. We're all ignorant about plenty of things, but gradually we learn more and more. Kids are ignorant about a whole lot of things. That's okay, it's allowed, they're new here and they'll pick it up as they go along. But let's stop pretending their lack of knowledge, of understanding and experience is itself wondrous and something to be revered. It's not. Their thirst for knowledge, on the other hand, is.

Teaching in the ROK

So, in case you didn't know, I'm currently teaching in Korea for the year. So lemme do a typical day in the life.


7:15am:
I'm awake.Yes!  Every day that I actually wake up on time, I'm super grateful for it. I am not good at getting up in general and last week I was two hours late for school. Did you know how much it fucking blows to be woken up at 10am by your doorbell, and you answer in your skivvies and it's your co-teacher who was half counting on finding pieces your raped corpse chopped up all over your officetel, and then having to go to the principal's office and apologise to like a hundred people? It blows a lot.)
I take the shortest acceptable excuse for a shower, spend at least ten minutes trying to find a pair of tights without numerous ladders, and vow to go through them  later and separate work tights from non-work (ie ripped) tights, but never do.

8:15am
  I generally summon at least two of the three elevators because I am a jerk like that. Then  swear silently as the elevator stops on every floor, the doors sliding open at a snail's pace to reveal nobody, because karma is a bitch. I check myself out in the mirror because I have been in Korea too long and forget how douchey I think that is.
My walk to school is nice, so long as it's not pissing rain. I found a new route a few months ago so now I get to walk through a nice tree lined avenue and a park rather than a dusty, traffic lined main road. I also like that I get to walk through a really affluent area and a disadvantaged one. There is a lollipop man outside a neighbouring school who always exchanges anyonghaseyos with me.

8:40(okay, 8:45-50)am
As I arrive to school, little kids run up to say hi, or bow or smile and it never fails to put me in a good mood. It really is one of the best parts of this job. And it's weird because I really had no affinity with kids before I came here. As a rule, I generally didn't like kids to be honest. That opinion was vetoed on my very first day. Maybe it's just Korean kids? Maybe it's just the language barrier and not being able to hear them call me names behind my back, but I really love the kids here. They're friendly and fun and they appear to be really nice to each other which weirds me out for some reason. And they love me because I'm a novelty, and I'm fine with that. Alright, I lap it up. I'm finally the popular girl in school and it's awesome.

9am
Generally, I have an hour before my first classes. I photocopy anything I need, make sure I have any presentations I'm using saved to my flashdrive and then just mess about online. Ten minutes before my class, the snacks appear and the teachers gather. I don't know who pays for or provides the snacks. I like to think it comes out of our collective paychecks but I'm not certain. The past couple weeks there have been bunches of grapes -totally different to grapes at home, these actually taste like grape-flavored things which has solved that lifelong mystery for me. In the past, the mid-morning snacks have also included big plates of: boiled potatoes, sweet potatoes, raw turnips, slices of Korean melon, slices of watermelon, cherry tomatoes, corn on the cob, kimbap, rice cake and strawberries.

9am-12pm
Classes. Periods are forty minutes. I spend the first five asking how the kids are, asking about their weekends, if they heard G-Dragon's new track etc. Then we review whatever it is we've been learning. Generally, I will do two activities -maybe a funny video followed by questions, or a presentation or some of the exercises from the text book and CD-Rom and then play a game of some sort.
If it's my co-teacher's class, I pace around and comment on students' pencil cases or doodles to keep myself awake between helping to pronounce or spell a word.
Before I came here I was extremely nervous about teaching, but I really enjoy it. It's fun, I like having the banter with the kids and the time flies.

12:10pm
Lunch. I still get a little excited every day wondering what lunch will be. Occasionally I'm disappointed, but usually it's decent and quite often it's great. Pretty much always includes rice, soup, kimchi, some kind of meat/fish and some kind of weird unidentifiable vegetable. Once in a while, we get something different -like spaghetti and garlic bread, which totally makes my day.

1pm
Sometimes I have one more class after lunch, but usually I'm free til 4.40pm. I do any planning I need to do for my next lesson and once that's out of the way I read and chat to friends. I don't usually need to spend too much time planning, but I do make sure I have cool things prepared, and have recently started making little live-action Panda videos for my classes which has been fun.  Students drop in to say hi, and I'll draw something on their wrist for them, or if I'm lucky (and it HAS happened) I get  a swarm of them around me -one giving me a neckrub, another doing my hair, another painting my nails and yet another fans me. Best. Job. Evar.

4:40pm
Hometime. If I have no dinner plans for later, I'll pick up some kimbap or mandu on the way home. More often, I meet friends later in the evening for dinner and sometimes beers and usually ice cream.Or if it's raining then you know, maybe I'm cleaning my place or doing laundry or painting my nails or skyping home or having someone with better rainproof footwear come over or watching torrents or looking at cute animal pictures or something.   If it's a Friday, there will usually be pre-drinks in the park or on somebody's rooftop before heading out to some bars. If it's a Saturday I'm probably only just leaving the house and heading into Seoul to do something cultural before winding up in Hongdae slurping soju from a paper cup. If it's Sunday... I don't even know what I do on Sundays. Some of the above.


So there we go. I love it here.

My first colposcopy!

So I forgot to blog about my most exciting cervical adventure yet -my colposcopy. Seeing as I've blogged about my previous pap exams (see Pap Rally and my most popular post of all, Ch-ch-check It) , I figure I should really provide an update for anyone who's maybe worried about their own upcoming colposcopy.

Basically, after getting irregular results from two routine paps in a row, I was booked in for a colposcopy at the Adelaide and Meath Hospital in Tallaght last June or so. To be honest I was kind of nervous, for a start because I hate hospitals but also because I wasn't sure what to expect. The procedure is described as being like any normal pap, except the doctor inserts a thin rod with a hoop on the end, and removes a tiny area of tissue to be checked out. The literature says "it's slightly uncomfortable but completely painless" and my friend said "Oh my god, my sister had that and said it was hell, she could barely walk afterwards."

Thankfully my friend is just mean and the literature was right, the whole thing is nothing to worry about. Mine got off to a good start when I arrived to find a really nice, modern hospital without a trace of that creep hospital scent. I sat down in the waiting room, on a seat that made loud fart noises at the slightest movement. Then I changed seats, and watched someone else sit on the fart chair and get embarrassed and move. This entertaining process repeated itself until I was called in to see the doctor.

After answering a few questions, I changed into a gown, and hopped up on the chair that reclined back. Their was a TV on the ceiling screening pictures of waterfalls and forests and playing similarly "calming" music that was kind of funny. It started off like a normal pap, except there was another nurse present too who was chatting away to me the whole time. Then I got to see my cervix on a screen which was pretty cool!! The machine made a pretty loud noise, but really that was the most unnerving part of the whole thing. I also realised, afterwards, that she had given me an injection. IN MY CERVIX. Just think of where your cervix is and then think how long that needle must have been!! Ha, but totally felt nothing.
It took maybe ten minutes or less altogether, and truly was a piece of cake.

So yeah, I told you it was a boring post, but still I thought I should update you on my cervical goings on, I know you guys were hotly anticipating it, like a Breaking Bad season premiere.

'Til you suck, do us part

So in news that's totally none of my business, after 27 years of marriage, Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore have split up. 

Teenage-Me cannot accept this. Kim and Thurston belong together! They are proof that true love and marriage doesn't just happen to saps! They are iconic! This is like hearing Barbie and Ken -actually, shit, even they called it quits didn't they? (-though I think the ol' erectile dysfunction proved a great strain on that relationship.) But it's weird you know? What gives after 27 years? Allow me to speculate, despite having never met either of them* or knowing any of the details. I can't help but wonder if one of them pulled an asshole move on the other.
Was Kim secretly getting it on with Lee Ranaldo? Was Thurston??
Or did they just naturally drift apart over the years?

It happens. After all, we're constantly growing and changing. Is it reasonable to think somebody who loves you at twenty when you're enthusiastic and fun and cute will still love you at fifty when you're bitter and cynical and wear mom jeans, unironically? Alright, just kidding, I'll skip the tired stereotypes about marriage and parenthood and ageing and how everyone eventually gets old and boring and only wants to talk about diapers and dining room furniture. (Oh, the table extends out to make room for twelve guests?? That would be awesome if your coke-fuelled-swinging-dinner-party days weren't behind you!) 

Take me for example. I wouldn't date Decade-Ago-Me in a million years. And not just because it would be weirdly incestuous, egomaniacal or constitute statutory rape. But because looking back I was sort of a self-righteous, insecure conservative (not that I knew it). I'm completely different now, I promise, and am only ever one of those things, and even then, only sometimes. But my point is that we change, sometimes radically, and just because you fall head over heels for someone amazing doesn't guarantee they won't mutate into a complete stranger who wears Crocs, listens to Nickelback and goes to the gym 'for fun', over the course of a long term relationship. (At least in that case you can always get the marriage anulled by claiming it was never consummated, because even papal law acknowledges that nobody who listens to Nickelback ever gets laid.)  

Of course, I'm not saying marriage can't be forever, it clearly works out for some people. It's going well for my parents, so far at least. Thirty-three years and they're still happy as a couple of pigs rolling around in holy matrimony.  But according to the stats, around half of all marriages now end in divorce. Okay, that's in the US, where another 10% probably ends in gun-related homicide, but let's be real, if that's the US rate, it will probably spread like a plague here too soon enough, just like with Starbucks.

To be clear, I don't consider a marriage that ends in divorce to be a 'failed marriage'. If it sucks, get the hell out. The idea of staying with someone who no longer wants to make out or insults you in front of your friends at parties or hits you, just because you made a promise to God during a drunken weekend in Vegas is way too Old Testament for me. F that noise. Stay with someone as long as you're both happy, make an effort when things get tough, know when to call it a day. Move on and meet someone else awesome, who makes you feel awesome, and let your ex do the same. Only chumps stay in unhappy marriages. Chumps and people whose greencards have yet to be finalised. Well, and fathers who don't want to lose access to their kids. And women who are afraid that if they leave, their husband will hunt them down and kill them. 
Fuck, there are actually a lot of reasons people stay in unhappy marriages. 
Shit. Don't get married. Anyone, ever. Just say no. 

And if you do, just be wary, and the moment they start talking about investing in some "breathable footwear", run.







*At seventeen, I was in the front row at a Sonic Youth gig and made eye contact with Kim, so I kind of do know her really. At least I think we made eye contact, I was having a bit of a 14yr-old-girl-at-a-NewKidsOnTheBlock-concert moment and had tears streaming down my face at the time. Yeah, embarrassing.

Say "AAGGHHHHHH!!!"

Some people are afraid of failure, some people are afraid of death. Some people are afraid of change or of commitment or of ending up cold and lonely, living on microwavable meals for one. Suckaaasss. I laugh in the face of death and if I find myself a single octogenarian I will sign up to one of those website for twenty-year olds boys to meet GILFs.  

And yet, I do have one terrifying, unrelenting, paralysing, irrational fear -the dentist. I'm not good with any kind of medical sitch, but dread it as I might, I can cope like a grown up when I have to. The dentist is a whole other ballgame. I feel sick and faint at just the mention of it, and anyone who knows me well is familiar with me doubling over and pleading "No, seriously, shut the fuck up, I'm going to vom on you" when they start to describe their casual lunch time extraction.


I've never really known what kicked off this phobia. Nobody else in my family seems to mind going to the dentist, and I've had pretty good luck with my teeth overall. But a while ago I played shrink and asked myself to try and recall what my earliest dentist-related memory was and eventually remembered this:

 I don't think it's too hard to imagine the effect it could have had on an impressionable five year old. Though what's funny is I LOVED this movie, and got in trouble for singing about shooting kittens with a BB gun (-my older brother and sister got a kick out of encouraging me to do impressions of things they knew my parents would get mad at me for, see also Jim Carrey's Vera de Milo character on In Living Colour. I used to wear a leotard and everything.) I still do love this clip (and isn't Steve Martin kind of babely?) but I have to skip past the drill and extraction parts. You know, I could totally handle someone hacking away at some far off extremity, like my toes, but it's the way teeth are in your HEAD, attached to your freakin' SKULL that makes it all seem so barbaric. Ughhhhhhhhhh.

As a kid, I always dreaded that pink slip in the letter box summoning me for a check-up, but always got the all-clear, until I was twelve and was told I had two cavities. To be fair, the dentist was nice and patient and she even let me half hum/half scream Pulp's Common People over and over while she worked, but ughh it was still awful and I still freak out thinking about it. Went back a couple of years later and got the all clear -and should have gone regularly since, but six months turned into a year, and then two and now it's been almost 12 years and I'm petrified of what may need doing.

Anyway, for the past couple years my phobia has gotten worse, in that instead of it crossing my mind once every few weeks when someone mentioned a dentist, it now crosses my mind daily. I'm not digging this feeling of having a dread cloud following me around, so I figure I really need to do something about it, once and for all. Cue mission impossible music.

Step 1. As Linford Christie says, it's all about PMA -Positive Mental Attitude! So the first thing was just deciding this was something I was going to do. I started reading online forums where phobic people shared their stories of going to the dentist and what a relief it was and how bad it wasn't. Just reading these, and knowing that other people were as shit-scared as I am, really helped. I would also close my eyes and imagine going to the dentist and having a really positive experience. All memories are constructions, it's just about convincing yourself.

Step 2. Find the right dentist. Some dentists have reputations for being really good with phobic patients. I even emailed one in Galway who had stellar reviews, and when she phoned me back I managed to answer and hold down a normal conversation despite the fact my heart was thumping and I was sweating. It might not sound like much, but discussing a check up WITH a real live dental.. receptionist? Shit is real!! However, I found out they don't offer twilight sedation, so I had to look elsewhere. Twilight sedation is basically the miracle drug -they pump you full of anti-anxiety drugs and painkillers, and though you're technically still semi-conscious, basically not a single fuck is given. You're just like "yeah, bring it on or whatever". Some people even fall asleep during it. It's also affordable, unlike general aneasthesia. So, I found a guy who had great reviews and does the twilight sleep cheaper than anywhere else.

Step 3. Preparation for check-up. Okay so if (fine, "when") I need work done, twilight sedation is my jam, but I also need help for just getting into the chair and opening wide for a check-up. So I asked my doc for valium, and she giveth. I've never had it before, so she suggested I pop some beforehand, so that's my next rainy day sorted. I'm not sure what to expect, apparently its effect varies a lot from person to person. Frankly, the more out of it I am the better, so here's hoping it does the trick. Drugs are rad, mmkay?

Of course the next couple steps are the tough ones. I spent about an hour today with the phone in my hand, trying to psych myself up to make an appointment, and then decided that I might be better off dropping by in person tomorrow, seeing as I've never been inside this dentist's office before.
So there you go, that's my plan to face my phobia. Might all sound a bit twentyfirstcenturyproblems, but it's a pretty huge deal to me, and even a year ago there is no way in hell I could have imagined myself going to the dentist of my own free will. I'm hoping making it public stops me from wussing out, and trying to focus on how badass I'll feel once I've done it.

NO dentist horror stories please! but feel free to comment on your own experiences with phobias/offer words of encouragement/promise to hold me etc.

Saying yes

I killed time on a four hour bus journey recently by listening to one of my favourite podcasts -Dykes on Mykes. This particular episode aired a talk given by Susie Bright at McGill University in Montreal recorded back in '93. I think Susie Bright's a pretty great speaker overall, but one thing she said really stuck out to me. As girls, we're encouraged to say no, and not to have sex until we are ready. Which is all good, and it's important that girls don't feel pressured into sex. But such emphasis is placed on turning boys down and keeping them out of our pants, that we're never really taught how to go about saying yes, when we are ready.

Okay, so some of us are just naturals, and have absolutely no problem making the first move and telling someone exactly what we want to do to them. But more and more I'm realising that a lot of us are having sex on boys' terms.

Don't get me wrong -this isn't going to be a tirade about how we're giving men what they want, or giving the milk away for free or how they should 'put a ring on it' first. I'm just not that kinda girl -sex is an activity, not a bargaining chip and I could never recommend using sex to make someone like you/ commit to you/ buy you shit.

So then what do I mean by having sex on your own terms? Having sex when YOU want, engaging in the kinds of sex YOU enjoy, and pretty much just having an equal say in how it all goes down [ahem]. It sounds like pretty basic stuff, but from what I'm hearing, it's not always happening like this. I have friends -amazing, funny, smart friends -who admit to never initiating sex with their partner, or not showing them what they like, or failing to speaking up when their partner wants to do something they're not really into.

* "Jane" says that when it comes to sex, she can never make the first move on her boyfriend of nine months and that "I shouldn't have to.. if he fancies me, he should make the first move."

"Sarah" has yet to have an orgasm with the guy she is currently sleeping with. She knows how to get herself off, but is too shy to show him.

"Lisa" finds sex from behind uncomfortable but does it anyway because she feels it's more 'flattering' than her favourite -being on top.

"Rachel" has a friends-with-benefits situation but never has the guts to call him when she wants to and so they only hook up when he calls her.

These are sad stories! And sadly, true.

I don't mean to paint all women as sexual shrinking violets because hell no, we're not. But it's a definite theme I am noticing with some of the women I speak to -women who consider themselves independent and sexual and "definitely not prude!" [said in the same horrified tone as if claiming not to be a puppy molester.]

There's a very common belief that when it comes to sex, the ball is always in the ladies court -that most women can go out any night of the week and have sex if they want to, whereas most men have to try or work for it. That women are the gatekeepers, the ones who decide if it's happening or not, while men are always up for it. Those myths make it sound like women are the ones in control. And we can be, and sometimes we are, but often we're really not. Often, it seems, insecurities dictate when we have sex and how. Only with the lights off, only when drunk, only if he starts it, only the way he likes it or the way that's most flattering... Hang ups are shaping hook ups.

We're taught to assertively say no, but not how to assertively say yes. A healthy approach to sex requires both, so that the Janes and Sarahs and Lisas and Rachels can be more confident and active in their own sex lives. I think the best start is to rope Susie Bright into a tour of Irish secondary schools. I'll even dig out my old vile-green uniform if it means I can sneak in and take notes.

*fake names, obvs.