Spicy roaster cauliflower by Macheesmo
"Alice Springs Chicken" with a twist - tarragon mustard instead of honey
Lemon Ginger Blanched Green Beans from one of my favorite cookbooks
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
DINNER! :)
Spicy roaster cauliflower by Macheesmo
"Alice Springs Chicken" with a twist - tarragon mustard instead of honey
Lemon Ginger Blanched Green Beans from one of my favorite cookbooks
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Monday, June 9, 2014
Naked
It is amazing to me, the difference between being nude and Naked.
I am a fairly relaxed person when it comes to my physicality. I often run around topless, or in just a cotton wrap, because it is comfortable to me. I understand this is not for everyone, so I only do this at home, but if the world were ready for it, I would mostly likely go grocery shopping in whatever state of dress I happened to find myself.
This is because when I am unclothed, I am not Naked. I am simply nude.
The difference in how exposed you feel. I can be completely bare in front of a stranger, tied and trussed for all the world to see and not feel Naked in any way. My body is merely the house for my Soul.
Naked is a vulnerability the comes from within, not from vestments. When you see past the careful layers of arrogance and indifference I have built up around myself, then I am Naked.
For example,
My roommate found me crying on the couch this morning. I was upset over a piece of fiction, and being caught with that laid bare made me feel utterly Naked and ashamed (two separate ideas that do not have to go together, but often do, because when you are Naked, there is no where left to hide). I accept a hug from him anyways, because he is a friend, and the fact that he was shirtless and I in just a cotton wrap was irrelevant, except in as much as it let me feel more of his skin, and I took comfort in the touch. My nudity is not what made me Naked, it was being caught emotionally raw. Our mutual nudity made it easier for me connect to the support he was offering, because I find skin to skin contact to be more solid, more real, more reassuring. The more of our skin that touched, the better I felt.
Until I realized that in his eyes, I was still naked. The emotional exposure was lost on him, but the availability of my skin was not. And immediately, my acceptance of his hug became an invitation to explore the body I had not cared to cover until then. My nudity became Nakedness, because my casual attitudes towards skin were pushed aside. My skin was made to mean what he thought it should mean, and in doing so, he made me Naked because he pushed past my personal barriers to make me vulnerable where I had not felt so before.
The transformation from nudity to being Naked can be such a horrible thing, a personal violation that passes completely unseen behind the eyes of the victim. This forced vulnerability is pushed on women (and I suppose men, I wouldn't know, I've never been a man) and it the reason so many women are pushing back to reclaim their bodies. When I am unclothed, I am not Naked until you make me Naked, and it is my right not to have to feel that way. You cannot take my skin from me and make it mean what you want it to. It is My skin, and it means to me what I want it to. To tell me otherwise is a gross violation of my personhood.
This is why women are taught not to wear skirts too short, or lipstick too red. Because our skin isn't allowed to say what we want it to, it says what society tells us it says. Until we change what society is saying, there is not skirt long enough, no street brightly lit enough, no person we can trust, because while not every man will say this to us, we have no way of knowing when we will suddenly be NAKED. And we are powerless to cover ourselves.
I am a fairly relaxed person when it comes to my physicality. I often run around topless, or in just a cotton wrap, because it is comfortable to me. I understand this is not for everyone, so I only do this at home, but if the world were ready for it, I would mostly likely go grocery shopping in whatever state of dress I happened to find myself.
This is because when I am unclothed, I am not Naked. I am simply nude.
The difference in how exposed you feel. I can be completely bare in front of a stranger, tied and trussed for all the world to see and not feel Naked in any way. My body is merely the house for my Soul.
Naked is a vulnerability the comes from within, not from vestments. When you see past the careful layers of arrogance and indifference I have built up around myself, then I am Naked.
For example,
My roommate found me crying on the couch this morning. I was upset over a piece of fiction, and being caught with that laid bare made me feel utterly Naked and ashamed (two separate ideas that do not have to go together, but often do, because when you are Naked, there is no where left to hide). I accept a hug from him anyways, because he is a friend, and the fact that he was shirtless and I in just a cotton wrap was irrelevant, except in as much as it let me feel more of his skin, and I took comfort in the touch. My nudity is not what made me Naked, it was being caught emotionally raw. Our mutual nudity made it easier for me connect to the support he was offering, because I find skin to skin contact to be more solid, more real, more reassuring. The more of our skin that touched, the better I felt.
Until I realized that in his eyes, I was still naked. The emotional exposure was lost on him, but the availability of my skin was not. And immediately, my acceptance of his hug became an invitation to explore the body I had not cared to cover until then. My nudity became Nakedness, because my casual attitudes towards skin were pushed aside. My skin was made to mean what he thought it should mean, and in doing so, he made me Naked because he pushed past my personal barriers to make me vulnerable where I had not felt so before.
The transformation from nudity to being Naked can be such a horrible thing, a personal violation that passes completely unseen behind the eyes of the victim. This forced vulnerability is pushed on women (and I suppose men, I wouldn't know, I've never been a man) and it the reason so many women are pushing back to reclaim their bodies. When I am unclothed, I am not Naked until you make me Naked, and it is my right not to have to feel that way. You cannot take my skin from me and make it mean what you want it to. It is My skin, and it means to me what I want it to. To tell me otherwise is a gross violation of my personhood.
This is why women are taught not to wear skirts too short, or lipstick too red. Because our skin isn't allowed to say what we want it to, it says what society tells us it says. Until we change what society is saying, there is not skirt long enough, no street brightly lit enough, no person we can trust, because while not every man will say this to us, we have no way of knowing when we will suddenly be NAKED. And we are powerless to cover ourselves.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Sleeps
...I am rolling along on 4 hours of sleep.
Last night it was 6.
I don't know what's going on with my body, but it's like "Sleep? Nah- that stuff is for sissies." I really don't approve.
I don't think its a writing mania - I mean, I'm getting a lot of writing done, but I think that's more due to the influence of my writing partners than any biochemically silliness in me. I just... won't sleep.
Maybe it's just a weirdness of how the days fell out. We'll see what goes on tomorrow.
Last night it was 6.
I don't know what's going on with my body, but it's like "Sleep? Nah- that stuff is for sissies." I really don't approve.
I don't think its a writing mania - I mean, I'm getting a lot of writing done, but I think that's more due to the influence of my writing partners than any biochemically silliness in me. I just... won't sleep.
Maybe it's just a weirdness of how the days fell out. We'll see what goes on tomorrow.
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