Yeah… but you still want a photo which says “buy this book”. This photo says: “buy this book or I’ll kill the President”. (update)

First of all, let me say this: my apologies to all the people whose blog I usually comment on regularly. I barely find the time to blog here myself at the moment, I still read your posts but I’m just too drained to make inspired comments right now. Forgive me, I will hopefully be able to comment again soon!

Now let me say this: I love spending money. On books. There is nothing as satisfying as buying a book. The only thing I can imagine buying that would be more satisfying to me would be buying a movie theatre. And that’s kinda not in the cards right about now.

So there it is. I love buying books. Recession or not, I stick to Plato’s saying: “When I have a little money, I buy books. If I then have some left, I buy food and clothes”. Let me tell ya, Mr. Plato knew how to set priorities! Ok, so I still eat every day. But buying a book, man… there’s just no feeling comparable to it. Even when I have to buy books for work (which happens rather often these days), I still like it. Maybe not loving it, but definitely liking it. But I prefer picking a book myself, be it a book I’ve wanted for ages or a book I’ve just recently decided I HAD to have (or else I’d die). There’s something so wonderfully right and pure about owning a book. I’ve never been a big fan of public libraries. To this day I seem incapable of returning a book I’ve borrowed from a library. In primary school, it was the same with the school’s library. I borrowed a Care Bear book in first grade and I still had it in fourth. I don’t know how I convinced the librarian to keep lending me other books in the meantime (she always dutifully reminded me I still had outstanding ones that she would really like me to give back) but one day, they decided we would have to pay a fee for books kept past the return date. So before we all got slapped with the fee (and by all I mean exclusively me, all the others in my class were prim and proper young ladies who always returned their books on time and the boys didn’t read much), they handed out a list to each teacher, with the outstanding books and the pupil’s name next to it. So in front of the whole class, Monsieur Trevisan announced that I had to give back the Care Bear book (along with a few other embarassing titles). The whole class was bent in two with laughter. They teased me with it until the baccalaureate, no matter how many times I insisted that “I haven’t read that since first grade!!” Even today, my friends from back then haven’t stopped beating that dead horse. I will never hear the end of it. So yeah, I’m not a fan of borrowing books. I like owning them and never having to give them back to that book orphanage.

When I buy a book, I treat myself to it. Today, I treated myself to Jill Price’s “The Woman Who Can’t Forget”. I only read the prologue and was instantly hooked. I love it! And I ordered Carrie Fisher’s “Wishful Drinking”, which will be here just before Christmas. Yay! It’s actually funny that I want these two books because I don’t read a lot of contemporary literature (who needs something entitled Lipstick Jungle? Seriously?!) and so far, I haven’t read that many autobiographies – although it must be said that I really enjoyed all the ones I’ve read so far, like Marlene Dietrich’s (but if you read that, make sure you also read Maria Riva’s biography of her mother, or you’ll be very misled by Marlene) or Marcel Reich-Ranicki’s. I’m more of a classics/modern classics gal. But still.

Very early on in my life, I discovered my passion for literature. As soon as I could read, I devoured some high-brow French 19th century books (the Comtesse de Ségur, my goodness did I love her books) and then everything I could get my hands on. It didn’t take very long for me to find my parents’ (poorly) hidden erotic literature section either. I knew where it was around the age of 11 and by age 13, I was interested. Interestingly, it was all high-brow erotic literature. Nothing seedy, creepy or illustrated. Real erotic books and plays. I love my parents. My father found out quite soon that I knew where it was and we had a talk about it. My mum wasn’t very thrilled that I had been sneaking the books but my father just said: “No books in this house are off-limits. You can and must read everything you like.” My mum quickly complied. Now that’s growing up in an intellectual household, I tell ya.

That my father said this to me was nothing that I realised was great in retrospect. I knew it right away. I knew it was special and wonderful that I was allowed the freedom of mind to choose whatever I wanted and that whatever I picked and decided to read was valuable in its own way. I’ve always had (and still have) an insane and deep love for my father but I remember thinking, back then, that this made me love him even more. He’s always been an advocate for us growing up to be independent thinkers and personalities. Today, I am never ashamed of wanting something that will make me happy or improve me, no matter how insignificant or childish or senseless that something may seem to anyone who isn’t inside my head. My father is the one who deserves credit for this. I know that we can learn from everything, if we only want to. Nothing is ever lost. But please don’t quote me on this when you’re asking me to re-do the mathematic calculations I had to learn to do for the baccalaureate. These have unfortunately been erased from the hard-drive and I’m afraid they can’t be retrieved. Ever.

Anyway, go get yourselves satisfied. Buy a book for the holiday season (holiday being a very relative term in my neck of the woods, seeing as I’m fully booked with work until January 7th)!

Live long and read, peace,

Anna

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Update: Now that WALL-e has received a well deserved Golden Globe nomination for best picture, it’s possible that it will also get one for the Best Picture Academy Award. I truly believe that it should win it (and that WALL-e should be made President of the Earth, but first things first) and I played around a little and came up with this picture. If you like it, feel free to copy it and post it to your blog, webpage or wherever else you might like. If you post it online, I’d be happy if you linked to this blog once and cited your source. Please note that I do not own the rights to WALL-e or anything related to the movie, I’m just an ardent fan. Thankyouverymuch.

I’m cookie dough. I’m not done baking.

Wow. Everything feels like it’s a bit topsy-turvy. The last three weeks were spent working straight through. Now I’ve been lucky enough to have two days off last week and today I was ill, so I stayed at home. It feels strange but oh-so-good. Tomorrow, I have to bite the bullet and go to class and then work, but I hope it will be ok.

These two days off I’ve had didn’t really help much with my workload, but they helped with the mess in my flat. I tidied up real neat and that already made me feel so much better. I’m still an interview and a review behind but I think I might get at least half of that done by tonight. I was also supposed to write a column on the weekend, but guess what: these columns just don’t write themselves when you have a fever and your throat is sore and you’re aching.

Funnily (and luckily) enough, I was feeling okayish enough on Saturday to not ditch the Clockwork Orange party I was invited to. I had seriously considered not going on Saturday morning but then I stuffed myself with painkillers and vitamins and that got me through the day. So in the evening, I went to the party. Let me tell ya, taking the tram all the way through Zurich with heavy make-up and a powdered wig (so huge that even the opaque black veil I had covered it with didn’t fully manage to hide it) was something else. And not in such a good way. Most people looked at me with expressions that clearly showed they were pondering what would be safer: calling the cops first or the nice men in the white jumpsuits and butterfly nets. Only one woman smiled at me with a friendly twinkle in her eye and judging by her designer pop art boots, she was an artist of some kind and that was why she got me and didn’t judge me. What kind of a sad world do we live in where people feel threatened by a girl in make-up and a white wig?

The party itself was a lot of fun and it was, thankfully, not as stressful as I feared it would be. They only put on the loud oomph-oomph-oomph music towards midnight, which was when I left. Before that, I got to talking with a lot of interesting people (in very cool, very outrageous outfits) and one guy even gave me the eye. Another was a French banker working for UBS and it was so pleasant to speak French with him for about half an hour. He even bought me a drink. It was kind of a weird moment: I am not used to men buying me drinks. We were standing at the bar talking and at some point he finished the drink he was having when we started talking and leaned over to the barman, saying he wanted another… ugh… something with alcohol and lemon. He turned to me and said “And what do you want?”, to which I sheepishly replied “Nothing thanks, I have my purse all the way over there”. I didn’t want to go get it, I wasn’t that excruciatingly thirsty yet. Laurent looked at me as if I was a little dumb (which apparently, I really was) and then said “No, I’m buying you the drink. What would you like?” Still sheepish, I said ice tea. Yes, remember that boys, I’m a cheap date. He paid and made a funny face when I thanked him, like it really wasn’t such a big deal. But in a small, insignificant way, it was kind of a big deal to me. Know what I mean? I’m just still not used to people being so courteous and nice to me. Although, to be honest, many people are very nice to me. Still, that kind of polite, agreeable attention is not something that is given to me every day. Apparently, it happens so rarely that I now almost fail to recognise when it’s right in front of me. Scary… I’m going to die an old maid.

So that was Saturday. If I get my hands on some of the pics that were shot at that party, I’ll put them up here. Sunday was tedious. I had to work and I did so, steadfastly ignoring my fever, which had returned with a vengeance. So today, I called in sick at uni, only to find out a little later in the morning that my class had been cancelled for the day anyway. Which is great, because it means I still have all my three allowed sick days. We have this attendance rule at the SAL, that we are only allowed to miss three times (with an excuse!). Any more than that and we are in danger of not getting the attestation for the course at the end of the semester. Of course, we all bend that rule whenever we can, but it’s still kinda there. And since I have a pretty high profile at the SAL for various reasons (the least of which is that in classes, I’m a total nerd and teacher’s pet and am constantly answering questions, participating etc – I’m a real pain in the arse to my fellow students, but hey, that’s me), I have to be a little careful about those things.

Finally, I would just like to say: Hallelujah for cookie dough! I didn’t have much to eat left in the house today but I got the munchies tonight something fierce and I really, really needed something sweet. I had no sweets left (a good thing, really) but then I was kissed by the baking muse: cookie dough! I quite enjoy the occasional Ben & Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream (sinfully decadent but oh, so yummy!) and I was thinking about it when it struck me that I might have the ingredients to make cookie dough myself. Alhamdulil’ah for the internet! I googled a cookie dough recipe and sure enough, even found one that specifically stated: “this egg-free version is made to be eaten raw”. Jackpot!! I rumaged through my pantry and kitchen cupboards and about 15 minutes later, I was proudly looking at a fresh batch of cookie dough. I even had the vanilla extract needed for the recipe! I didn’t have any chocolate chips at home (they’re not as easy to come by in Europe) but that didn’t matter, I would probably have left them out of the recipe anyway. I’m not a big fan of chocolate chips. Except in actual cookies and then I prefer them to be white chocolate chips.

Once again, my eyes were bigger than my stomach and I decided to double the recipe’s quantities. Now I have some heavenly cookie dough but I ate about 5 spoons and my munchies are completely satisfied. I wonder how long it will keep or if freezing some of it wouldn’t be a better idea. I wonder if I can bake cookies from that dough or if that won’t work because there are no eggs in it… Anyway, I’m really happy I made the cookie dough. It was my first time and I did feel very decadent but sometimes you’ve gotta be a little hedonistic, right? It’s funny how making something yourself already take the edge off the munchies from hell.

Anyway, onwards ho with my crazy life. I just got another ghostwriting offer and I might take it. It seems like life wants me to make some money at the moment but I’m wary of that. Some things, like the freedom to see friends, enjoy a movie, have a night off, eat a fine breakfast and sleep in, well, money just can’t buy that. I need more space to breathe and to actually live life and every job I take on cuts into that badly. Finding the right balance is among the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

ps: just in case you were wondering what was going on with your screen/this blog’s presentation: WP has a cool seasonal gimmick with which I can make it snow over my blog. Since snowflakes are pretty and it is winter and my home is in no way decorated for the holiday season (I simply don’t have any decorations), I thought it would be nice to let it snow in my virtual home. Pretty, fun, warm and dry! What more could one want from snow? So no, your screen isn’t broken. It’s just snowing from the top of my blog!

I think there’s too much burden placed on the orgasm.

WARNING: if you are under 18, this post may not be for you. If sex talk squicks you, skip this post. All others, please proceed!

Ok, so it’s not a secret I read what is commonly called sex blogs. In fact, almost all the blogs I read regularly are sex blogs, except Pioneer Woman (whom I don’t read as regularly anymore, it’s starting to be a bit repetitive for the most part) and Celebitchy, where I go when I need some celeb gossip in my life. It’s cheaper than buying mags and more instantly gratifying.

Anyhoo: I read sex blogs. And I love them. I think there is something simultaneously poetic, dramatic and fun about the people I read. Some of them live “normal” lives and some of them work in the sex industry but all of them have a refreshing, provocative openness that I really appreciate and enjoy. I like to think that if my sex life were existent and going the way I would really want it to go, I might also join the ranks of these courageous sex bloggers. I just wouldn’t give the link to my dad.

One of the blogs I read has recently added a whole bunch of links to its blogroll and I’ve clicked on a few of them. These days, I don’t really get hooked on new stuff easily but I do like to browse other, as yet undiscovered by me, sex blogs. Today, this led me to a gentleman calling himself Serpentcrown. He wrote a post about transcendental orgasm that I found so wildly beautiful, astonishing and yet completely relateable that I simply had to link to it. It is quite graphic (even porno-graphic) but it seems honest and visceral and I just connected with it so much that I couldn’t keep this discovery to myself. Many of you who read me may feel this has no place in this blog, but I think that in a way, it does. I don’t particularly advertise my sexuality (at least I don’t have the feeling I do) but it is part of who I am. I was deeply moved by Serpentcrown’s post and I want to share it with all of you. Besides, I figure that if you have read me so far, you will not be overly surprised or grossed out by the link. Open your mind, even if sex related writings are not your thing, and try reading Serpentcrown’s post. It is utterly amazing and revealing. And I know a few men (though I don’t know if they read me – no matter) who would love to experience what Serpentcrown describes. Women have the advantage of no orgasm ever being the same but men, yes, you can also achieve greater pleasure. Yes, what he describes is in the realm of kink, which may not be everyone’s preference, but it all goes so much deeper than sexual preferences.

What he describes is part of what I perceive to be the true essence of great sex and, quite simply, what sex should be about. Or, at least, can be about. What I found great about Serpentcrown’s post is that although he glorifies his transcendental orgasm (as well he should), he doesn’t burden it. I was not left with the feeling “Damn, I have to achieve this particular kind of orgasm at least once in my life” but I rather thought “He is so right, I am so happy for him and his companion”. I said earlier that I could relate to what he describes and indeed, I can, even though I have not experienced exactly what he describes; I have experienced other variations of it.

All in all, I just find it wonderful that men and women alike may be able to enjoy similar (or even equal) orgasms. Up until I read this post and from my personal experience, I always had the feeling that the orgasm, the quality and variation of it, was another unfortunate chasm between the sexes. It is strange, fabulous and hope-inducing that this may not be the case after all.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna
ps: in case you were wondering where the damn link is, it’s in the sentence, that’s not just a blue highlight up there!