I grew up in a culture that limits itself strictly to air-kissing in social settings (or backslapping for men). Hugs are for children and/or intimate partners. Now that I live in the US I will accept a hug rather than look stuck-up, but I struggle to interpret it with the correct degree of intimacy.
Whenever I'm talking to my friends about poetry they come up with the most marvelous things, and then I trot out my favorite Adrienne Rich poem, or "13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird", or "Ozymandias", and then my friends cough and say, why yes, I've loved that ever since the first time I read it in the third grade.
But! I know one good poem that I think is an exception to my lame-and-obvious rule. It was in the New Yorker a few years ago. I still have the magazine it was in, but there's no way to find it online if you're not a subscriber. Is the Poetry Foundation particularly concerned with copyright? I guess the only way to find out is to record it and see if it goes up. Now I just need a microphone because I don't think my phone will cut it.
On Shop Talk
@iceberg I've never used one either. It sounds more sore-making than fun.
On Shop Talk
Am I the only one who's never used a vibrator? I've been fapping since an early age, but a vibrator has never sounded like fun to me. Dildos and other phallic things? Yes, on occasion, for a laugh. But never a vibrator. Granted, my ladybits are somewhat nonstandard (basically, I'm one of the shorter ladies mentioned here: http://slog.thestranger.com/slog/archives/2013/04/03/sl-letter-of-the-day-how-do-i-know#comment-16414755) so maybe that's a factor. But I feel odd, like a person who's never eaten ice cream or ridden a bus.
@yeah-elle Nope here too.
@datalass Yeah. I came so close to becoming a statistic when I was talking to one woman about how I would never be a homeowner and she said, "Well! Choose to save!"
My older coworkers who were teenagers in the 1970's laugh about better living through chemistry, and started work when jobs practically grew on trees and if you lost one there was always another one for the taking. They never got kicked out of school or lost all access to financial aid for getting a little high. If they did, tuition was low enough that they could pay it with a little part-time job on the side.
When I was growing up I was never even tempted to try any drug that could be addictive. I figured life was going to be hard enough without a monkey on my back.
For me it started early on, at home. My parents had an incredibly retro marriage. I decided that I'd rather be like my dad, going to work in a sleek office building full of shiny equipment then coming home to relax with a drink, reading a book and screaming for his supper, than like my mom, who gave up her education in science to follow my dad to a foreign country where she moped around the house all day taking a lot of naps. I knew I was a girl and wanted to look pretty in dresses and eventually be kissed by boys, but I didn't want to be my mom. And my dad, although he was Archie Bunker to everyone else, had a blind spot for me and encouraged me to be everything I could be.
When I was 10 we moved back to the US. My mom became very active in antifeminism, out of a (justified) fear that the average American didn't have much respect for her choices. The more she ranted, the more I knew I had to go a different way. The first grown-up book I bought with my own money and read was The Handmaid's Tale. I started on a pursuit of other people's mothers as surrogate mentors and role models that continues to this day. I don't remember any of them identifying as feminists, but they were women I could look up to.
From the part in The Bell Jar where Buddy shows it to Esther for the first time: "All I could think of was turkey neck and turkey gizzards and I felt very depressed."
No, really I like penises and think they hardly ever look like turkey parts. But still, Sylvia Plath.
@iceberg Better shiitake than button.