Good morning, Readers!

So, I have a tonne of stuff I want to talk about, but no time in which to do it.  I'm flat out, currently, with everything hitting all at once.

I have a novel to edit, papers to mark, books to read, and it's all crashing on me now.

I'm a little stressed, also very busy, and don't have time to do the kind of in-depth blog posts I'm craving right now.

So this is going to be another short post to let you know that I'm stupid busy, but still thinking of you.  So tell me what you're up to today/this week.  Help me procrastinate by telling me your stories!

Hope you're all well.  I will get to controversy next week (I hope).

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

A short post today.  I'm busy editing Daughters of Britain.  The second round of edits came in of Friday, and I want to get it done in good time.

I wanted to get started on Monday, but that day was a wash.  So I started yesterday.

As difficult as editing is, there's something about using that singular focus that helps with letting the world go.  The world is feeling a little heavy right now, so any distraction from the myriad of concerns, both personal and not, is a welcome thing.

I do want to go into further detail, but maybe I'll save that for tomorrow's post.  Right now I have a lot of work to do.

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Despite appearances, there are a lot of things I keep to myself.  Most of the time though, I'm genuinely an open book.  You could ask me pretty much anything, and I'll answer it as far as I'm comfortable.  I don't really see the point in hiding things that are obvious to anyone with a functioning brain.  All that does is create mountains of misunderstandings arising from assumptions made in ignorance.

For example, if I'm in a really shitty mood, I won't tell everyone I'm fine.  I'll warn you all that I'm in a really shitty mood.  For starters, it helps me as a public figure.  I will of course, try to be as accommodating as I'm comfortable when meeting people I don't know who may know me.  I would want people to know that I might not be on my game in the hopes that they might understand if I'm not as warm as they were expecting.

Though, I'll take it as a kindness if you'd leave me alone outside of specific events when I'm prepared and have my 'public' hat on.  You probably won't get the warmest reception if I'm just trying to do some grocery shopping.

Anyway, I will generally write about it if I'm in a foul mood.  I might even tell you why.  Like, this past week, I got into a fight which upset me to the point of a crying fit the likes of which I had not experienced for a long, long time.  How's that for a ridiculously long sentence?

It put me in a really fast, really hard spiral that took me a few days to crawl back out of.  I'm better now.  Now I'm just sad, instead of sad, frustrated and unbelievably angry.

Sometimes, if I get into a tiff with someone, and it's over something that does not merely impact me, but will also impact others, I will get inspired to blog about it.  Sometimes, I write a general blog post not inspired by any one event, but by a series of events or trends that I've noticed.  I will explain what I think needs explaining (asexuality, for example, or the need for vaccinations, or the problems faced by female martial arts instructors, or FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHERE ARE YOUR PHONE MANNERS YOU UNCIVILISED BRUTE. Ahem), because a few people are getting it wrong, and others likely will also.  This, of course, will negatively impact people who identify the way I do, be it sexuality, orientation, occupation or philosophy.

That post is a general PSA inspired by a particular incident, or pattern I've noticed.  It's not directed at any one particular person, but for anyone and everyone who may be making the same errors, which will impact other people like myself.  Generally, though, one person or event may have pushed me to finally write the piece.  The proverbial straw that broke the donkey's back, as it were.

What I don't do, is name names.  I also try to keep it vague enough that those who know nothing about the situation will not be able to guess at the identity of the person or persons (if there are any) who may have inspired a post.  Close friends will know, largely because I trust them enough to cry on their shoulders sometimes.

There have been some instances where people have thought these blog posts were directed at them specifically.  They weren't at all.  They were directed at everyone who thought/behaved this way.

However, as a general note, if you recognise in yourself behaviours I've identified as problematic, perhaps, maybe, consider stop doing the problematic things? At least around me.  I mean, it's totally up to you, of course.  If you want to continue being an arsehole, I can't really stop you, can I?

This, of course, is different from a difference of opinion.  Sometimes people tell me things privately that have given me pause and made me think.  Without naming the person, I often blog about my thoughts on a particular point that someone has brought up.  It helps me to work out what I actually think, and why, and provides a really interesting platform for discussion about a topic.  I love discussions like these, because they're often fascinating.

Generally speaking, it is entirely possible to have a difference of opinion about something without it turning into a mud-slinging match.  That does require that both parties not devolve into ad hominem attacks when they hear the words "I disagree" or "I think you're wrong about that."  The thing with such discussions is that no agreement may be reached, except the agreement to disagree on certain points.

I think that's perfectly okay.

An opinion is just that, an opinion.  Problems arise, I think, when people demand that their opinions be adopted by everyone else.

Which isn't to say some opinions shouldn't be abandoned.  Looking at you, Nazis.

So, what do I blog?  I blog opinion pieces.  A lot.  I'm really opinionated.  I sometimes use personal experiences as examples.  I blog the boring stuff, like what I'm currently up to (just got the second round of edits back for Daughters of Britain. So I'm editing today. Thanks for asking).

What I won't do is talk about specific people, unless they're in the public eye, saying dumb shit in public (looking at you, Nazis).  Then I will happily name names.  I will talk about specific behaviours in broad strokes.

I will talk about deeply personal stuff if asked.  I don't believe in hiding my humanity, and being human means that it's not all roses and sunshine all the time.

If that bothers you, this blog is probably not for you.

Good morning, Readers!

Saturday afternoon, the Amazing Flatmate and myself went to the cinema to watch Disney's live-action version of their classic Beauty and the Beast.

First of all, it was an insanely popular film, apparently, as it was sold out in two theatres.  We raced across town after striking out at our local joint, only to strike out at the second place, too.  In the end, we had to buy IMAX tickets.

I can say that this was worth it.

My Quickie Review

I loved this.  Until Mulan, Belle was my favourite Disney "princess."  She was much like me; head buried in books, stuck in a town and wanting so much more out of life than what she could see ahead of her.  I think almost everyone who has grown up in a small town has felt that way at one point or another.

I'm not in love with the movie the way I am with, say, Pan's Labyrinth, but this was a solid, wonderfully entertaining musical that represented the original well (and even answered a few questions).

My Longer Review

This production was gorgeous.  The costumes were beautiful.  The scenery was beautiful.  Even the tiny village Belle lived in was absolutely lovely.  I mean, I would happily live there now (I would have hated it growing up in in, no doubt).  Everything was bright and colourful, even when muted, as in the case of Beast's castle.

Luke Evans as Gaston was an exceptional piece of casting.  The man can sing, and it is evident that he had a lot of fun playing the ridiculous, awful, narcissistic ex-captain.  He was easily the strongest member of the cast, alongside the Beast.

Surprisingly, Emma Watson was the weakest of the cast members, which is not saying anything bad at all.  It was a great cast.  Emma is not a singer, so the fact that she could even hold a tune was pretty impressive, even if her voice was not the strongest.  There was also a moment (when she was looking at her father through the mirror) when it felt a little too much like acting.

The Beast was also spot on, except for one moment near the end of the film.  In the cartoon version, you can feel the weight of the Beast's broken heart more, I felt.  In the scene where the villagers attack, his exhaustion and his inability to care about his approaching death is better portrayed in the cartoon than the live action version.

Weirdly, Dan Steven's prince was an almost perfect live action version of the cartoon prince.

I also like how this version answered a few questions brought up by the cartoon, like, how in heaven's name did everyone in a village nearby a castle not know that there was a castle.  How did they not realize that their own prince had not been seen or heard from in a decade?  This film answered that, thankfully.

Also kind-of addressed is the whole Stockholme Syndrome aspect of the cartoon that was a little worrisome.  In this case, they took the time to make it seem much more like two desperately lonely people made a connection, rather than the captive damsel falls in love with her captor.

That's not to say that the issue is resolved, but I appreciate that they took the time to address it.

Making me smile, also, was the not-so-subtle acknowledgement of the oft-repeated lamentation that the Beast was far more attractive when in beast form than in human form in the cartoon, with this version having Belle ask her prince how he'd feel about growing a beard.  I laughed far too hard at that line.

I know that there have been some people who have taken issue with the inclusion of gay people (and those people can get stuffed), and some with how gay people are portrayed.

Take what I say next with a grain of salt, because I've had all the benefits of being "straight" (so to speak) and am not speaking from a position where I've experienced the stereotyping people are complaining about.

I thought there wasn't an issue.  Le Fou, though obsessed with Gaston, is actually incredibly sweet and moral.  He wakes up, as it were, and even fights on behalf of the servants at the castle.  He deserves better, as Mrs. Potts tells him.  The other issue noted was the wardrobe's attack on the "three stooges," as I've called them, throwing rich garments at them until the three men are dressed as women.  Two of those men are horrified and run away screaming.  Another smiles and flounces away, with the wardrobe screaming "Go, my love! Be free!" after him.

I actually really enjoyed that moment.  I thought it was quite sweet.

It's okay if it annoys you, though.  I get why it might.  Not all gay men enjoy dressing as women.  Not all men who enjoy dressing as women are gay.  I get it.  I still found the scene quite sweet.

Finally

If you get the chance, do go see this film.  It was very sweet, and a worthy adaptation of a animated film that I loved as a child.

Good morning, Readers!

So, this week was a really heavy week for me.  I tried to keep things light with a dumb, tongue-in-cheek game on Monday.  Boy, did that backfire.  I'm exhausted now.  Bone weary.  And in the need of some lightening up.

So today, I just plugged the word "funny" into Google images.  Now I'm just going to post everything I found that made me smile.

Here were the best ones on the first page:

And now, appropriately cheered, I'm off to do work.

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

I've written this blog post before, but it's been a minute, so I feel like I should again.

As you know, I'm pretty much an open book on this blog.  I share a lot of things about myself.  Many of them aren't happy things.

If you've read this post for a while, you now know my sexuality, my orientation, I'm a sexual assault survivor, I suffer from depression, and dealt with suicidal ideation until my mid-twenties or so (and still have some moments from time to time).

If you didn't... well, now you do.

You've probably also figured out that I'm very opinionated, extremely liberal, and possibly aggressive when cornered.

I understand that talking about that stuff can be quite affronting for some people.  Some people were raised to never, ever, never talk about the things I openly and easily mention in my blog.  I get it.  I do.

However, I talk about it all because I am not ashamed of any of it.  It took a lot of work to get to the point where I could stop blaming myself for things in which no blame was necessary at all (like sexuality and orientation, depression and suicidal ideation), and to take the blame from myself and put it where it belonged - onto the man who assaulted me.

Part of what drove that shame was the cone of silence that surrounded it.  We don't talk about it.  Not ever.  That told me it was shameful.  That told me I should be ashamed.

That's largely why I do talk about it.  Beyond just having gone through the work of healing those wounds in myself so that I can talk about my experiences without immediately wanting to vomit or cry, I talk about it because it should be talked about.

Representation matters.  Examples matter.

None of what I share is done flippantly.  I've thought long and hard about what I could share, should share, and the pros and cons of doing so.

One of the first of my truths I decided to share was my depression.  It was after I started following Wil Wheaton's blog.  He talked openly and frankly about his depression.  It was an eye-opener for me.  Suddenly, I wasn't so alone with my struggle.  There were others, too, and these others were real people, not the statistics I read in research about my condition.  Mr. Wheaton's open discussion about the struggles of living and coping with depression gave me hope.  Yes, he confirmed that it will be a continual battle.  But he also showed me that a good life can still be lived.  He told me in a way that felt more real than all the pamphlets my doctor gave me, that I was not alone.  That I could fight the battle.  That life could be good, even when my mind rebels.

It was such a huge moment for me.  I realised something in that moment.  I realised that the shame I had been taught to feel about depression was bullshit.  I realised that talking about personal experiences with it can, and does, help others who feel they might be fighting alone.  I looked at Wil Wheaton as an example of someone who battles on, and I use his example to help me continue to fight when I feel overwhelmed.

If I do nothing else with my life but provide such an example to someone else who is struggling, then that is a life well-served.

That's why I talk about it.

I talk about my suicidal ideation for much the same reason.  I made it through, mostly... not for lack of trying, mind you.  It's not a complete victory.  I'm still fighting that darkness, but the battles are fewer and farther in between, do not last nearly as long and, thanks to therapy and the examples set by other survivors, are not as hopeless as I once believed.

Here, on the other side, I can honestly say that surviving is so, incredibly, wonderfully worth it.

Mired in it, however, there was no light.  It was a blanket of hot, dark fog, pressing down on my shoulders, pulling me down, drowning me.  There was no one, not in the public sphere, not in my personal life, no one I could turn to who knew what it was like, who had come out the other side and could - or would - send back messages of how amazing it was there.

There was no reason to fight.  There was nothing but thick, heavy, endless fog.

If I do nothing else with my life but provide a light in that darkness, if all I've achieved is to send messages of hope back to the people still struggling through the fog that surviving is worth it, that it's possible to find a life worth living for; if I help save even one person, and that is all I do on this earth, then that was a life well-served.

And now you know why I can shamelessly say that I was sexually assaulted.  When it happened, when I was struggling through all the shit that came with it, I didn't have someone I could turn to who knew what it was like, who had survived, who lived well... until after one breakdown, when someone who I knew admitted it happened to them, too.  Then I did have an example of someone who had been through it all, who had come through, and who had lived well.  That was such a huge moment for me.

I'm not ashamed of being assaulted.  That shame belongs on the shoulders of the man who assaulted me.  I stand now on a rock, proud and defiant, and willing to show other survivors of assault that they also should not be ashamed.  They can come through it.  Life after such a profound violation is possible, and can be wonderful.

If I do nothing but provide even one survivor some inspiration to survive the aftermath of their assault, if that is all my life ever amounts to, then that is a life well-served.

It can be no secret by now that representation matters.  And that is why I "came out" as asexual.  I didn't know asexuality was a real thing until my late twenties.  It wasn't until a few years ago, after much research and, you guessed it, therapy, that I could even entertain the possibility that I wasn't actually broken.

There was no one, not a real person, not a fictional person, who identified as asexual when I was growing up.  I thought I was a freak, weird, broken.  Turns out, I'm not.  Not at all.  Knowing this, seeing this represented, would have helped me so, so much growing up.  All the repression, the faking, the isolation and loneliness that I felt because I did not know that what I was was normal and fine could have been avoided or at least eased.

If standing up, if being "out," if being representative helps just one kid avoid all the isolation and heartbreak I felt, and if that is all that my life ever amounts to, then that is a life well-served.

Before I decided to be so open about things some people find affrontingly personal, I thought long and hard.  I knew that some people would be affronted.  I knew that some people would try to find a way to weaponise this knowledge (and they have).  I knew that it might close some doors on me.

But I also knew how profoundly having someone to serve as an example, or who stood up as being like me, helped me in my life.

​If I can be that kind of help to people, then everything else will have been worth it.

Ciao.

Good morning, Readers!

Look, I'm really super tired of having my identity questioned.

Let's make something absolutely clear.  My identity is however I identify.  I don't give a fuck if you don't, can't or refuse to understand when I tell you I'm asexual.  What I expect is for you to take me at my word.  Because otherwise, you're calling me a liar, and I really don't appreciate that.

That said, I'm taking the time today to educate you.  Again.  So pay. attention.

I am a hetero-romantic, sex positive asexual.  There's actually a lot in that sentence so let's go through it shall we?

First, let's start with asexuality.  To Google!

Simple, right?  Good.  Now, strictly speaking, I'm a demisexual, meaning that sexual feelings or desires may—and the key word here is MAY—develop or in the very rare instances be present from the beginning.  That's happened to me all of once, and he didn't feel the same way, so let's move on.  Here's a definition of demisexual from asexuality.org.

This is shit you could discover for yourself if you bothered to go educate yourself.  But no.  Here I am, repeating it again for all those who couldn't be bothered.

Anyway, you might have had the realisation that human sexuality is weird and complicated and NOT ALL LIKE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE.  Go figure.

Think of my sexuality like this:

There is a spectrum.  At one end is complete asexual.  They get no sexual feelings whatsoever, never, not once.  At the other end is, for want of a better description, hypersexual.  These are your nymphs who feel sexually attracted to literally everyone always.  It's not accurate, but I'm trying to keep it simple.

Most people exist on the spectrum around about the middle there.  But others, not as many, exist closer to one end or the other.  I'm one of the ones sitting super close to the asexual end.

Because demisexuality is such a pain the arse to explain to the bloke at the bar asking for my number, I use asexual as an identifier.  It saves me a lot of hassle, and helps him to manage expectations.

Are we clear here?  No?  Well go out and research on your own.  I don't have time for this shit.  For everyone else who is keeping up, let's move on, shall we?

THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT SO PAY ATTENTION TO THIS BIT

Asexual does not mean aromantic.  Sure, there are some asexuals who are aromantic.  There are some sexuals who are absolutely aromantic.  There are some asexuals who are most definitely not aromantic.  I'm the latter.

Being hetero-romantic means, simply, that I am romantically attracted to men.  It doesn't really have anything to do with sex.  Once again, to Google! (Seriously, it's so fucking easy to look it all up.  Why haven't you?)  From asexuality.org:

Confused?  Yeah, so was I growing up.

You see, I developed crushes on people.  But here's the weird thing.  They had nothing to do with sex.  I thought they were supposed to.  Hell, pretty much everyone thinks they're supposed to.  So I grew up feeling like a freak show because I didn't feel things I was supposed to feel.  So I pretended.  A lot.  Sometimes I got caught out, and felt even more a freak, but I got pretty good at pretending I was "normal."

NB: Asexuality is a perfectly normal, if infrequent and often erased, sexuality.

It's a thing.  Calm your tits.

Lastly, let's look at sex positivity.  To Google!

What this simply means is this:

As long as what happens happens between consenting parties, then I'm totally cool with it.  Are you vanilla?  Sweet.  Into BDSM?  Awesome!  Want to have sex with men? I totally get it (I'm mean, I don't totally get it)!  Want sex with women?  I mean, they're gorgeous!  Sex with all possible permeations of gender and biological sex?  Go for it!  At the same time? With props? Fuck, you're athletic, but you do you, boo.

I honestly believe that there is a very strange stigma around sex and sexuality.  Bizarre puritanism has taught us that sex, and everything that surrounds it (including attraction) is wrong, shameful and should never be discussed, studied or understood.  It seems to have gotten to the point where even mentioning that someone is attractive could land you in very hot water.

Before we move past it: Yes, I have issues over being told to my face that people find me attractive.  Part of that is emotional baggage, more of it is because the telling of it is laiden with the expectation that I must, for some reason, return the sentiment, or must, for some reason, agree to date said person.  Y'all are going to be very disappointed if that's how you approach it.

But SONIA, HOW CAN YOU BE BOTH ASEXUAL AND SEX POSITIVE?!

If the idea that such a thing is possible makes your head feel like it's going to explode, then you have a fundamental misunderstanding of asexuality.  Go read the first part of this post again.

Just because I don't feel sexual attraction doesn't mean that I think sex is gross, or wrong.  I don't think there is anything wrong with attraction, or expressing it, either.  I don't have some sort of sex dysfunction.  I'm just asexual.  That's all.

What I do have a problem with is when physical attraction is used as the only marker making a person worthy, as is often the case with women: when the value as a person is tied directly to and judged entirely on how physically attractive they are. A woman's worth, in other words, is not tied to whether or not she gives you a boner, m'kay? This happens far more with women than men, but yes, men can be objectified as well.

I also take issue with people using sex to demean others, particularly women; calling women "whore" for example, as if the ability to attract lots of mates is something to be ashamed of...?  Jealous, much?  I mean, really!

Lastly, and this is really the crux of the matter, if someone identifies as some sort of orientation or sexuality, it's not your job to question them on it.  It might change for them as they grow and change.  It might not.  That's up to them.  Your inability to understand, or more frequently, your refusal to, is not their problem.  It's yours.  Fix your shit, and stay out of theirs, please and thank you.

​If you're still struggling, may I suggest buying this game:

You can click the image to go to the shop.

Seriously though, it's a fantastic game to learn all about human sexuality and biology.  And it's more complex than you could ever imagine.