i should apologise for that first post. it was a crap first post to a blog. will correspondingly post some more.

i watched sex and the city tonight. rather than the sort of "i'm so averse to this heterosexual rubbish... oh, but it's kind of funny" bind that i have previously found myself in while watching the show on other occasions (unrelated: am aware of inarticulate tone of this piece. will blame it on still-uncompleted philosophy essay), i found myself watching the show in a new frame of mind tonight. a frame of mind heavily affected by my... being currently enrolled in a contemporary feminist theory subject. queue thunderclap.

it was all about balls. the show tonight, that is. men's fixation with their balls. yet what shat me, perhaps on account of my sensitisation to it by women's studies, was the constant implication that men are governed by testosterone, while women, lacking this, are savvy, conversational creatures who like to shop. i suppose you might say that i was bothered by its essentialism, to use the jargon. yet it's more than that. it made me feel like i do when i go shopping. how is that? well, kind of self-aware/critical. not of anything specific like weight, skin, deficient wardrobe, but of how i fit into being 'a girl' (in the gender sense, construction and all that, not the "i have the wrong bits" sense.)

which all likes a bit of a wank when i type it up like that. like undigested theory. like someone else's thoughts/awarenesses. sure, from the age of two i always had an aversion to barbie and dresses with smocking, but...

you get the idea.

i really should write this essay now. expect fiddling with the format as this thing carries on... number one being my choosing to forego capitals. lower case is to my writing what pyjamas are to my... mood, or something. no time for laboured analogies. until next time.