an open letter to the absolutely fantastic troll who visited my blog the other day

Dear troll who visited my blog the other day,

I understand that in writing this post, I am engaging with you, which is the exact opposite of how you’re supposed to deal with trolls.  However, I don’t feel like you’re a “personal” troll.  You seem more the type who peruses tags of subjects you like to troll about, where you commit your troll-y acts as you see fit, and then move on to other troll opportunities.  Thus, I am fairly confident that you will never visit again and won’t ever read these words.  Unless, in a plot twist, you actually found the post through my Facebook, meaning that I have unwittingly been Facebook friends with an anti-feminist troll for an indeterminate amount of time.  If this is the case, please feel free to delete me from your friends list at the earliest opportunity.Read More »

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fifty shades of absolutely not

My personal experience with Fifty Shades of Grey went something like this:

Because I don’t live under a rock, I’d heard whispers about it.  I was mildly intrigued, as most people would be upon hearing that word porn had somehow managed to become a socially acceptable bestseller (as an aside, once I overheard a classmate telling our elderly male prof that she had read it on her tablet in bed…like, he knows what it is! It’s not a secret!).  I had the distinctly awkward experience of noticing that my mother owned all three books, and the distinctly awkward-er experience of witnessing my mother lending the books to my grandmother.  One day, when I was alone in my mom’s bathroom, I noticed it on the bathtub ledge.  Curiosity got the best of me, and I flipped open the first page.Read More »

feminist mythbusting, part I

So, I have a confession.  This might come as a surprise, but…I am a feminist.  A big, huge, raging Crazy Feminazi™. Actually, that really shouldn’t be a surprise.  If you’ve read more than one of my posts and haven’t figured that one out for yourself, I don’t really know what to tell you.

As you’ve probably noticed, feminism has kind of been having its day in the light for the past couple years or so.  Some might even call it “trendy”.  Nowadays, it seems that every time a female celebrity gets interviewed, she gets asked the question, “Are you a feminist?”  And, I mean, I guess that’s better than asking mundane questions about their diets for their latest movies or where they get their hair done or whatever, but many of their answers have revealed something about the public’s view on this controversial topic:

People really, really don’t know what feminism even is.

Of course, I’m far from the first one to try to correct these misconceptions, but I thought I might as well add my voice to the crowd, because I really like hearing myself talk (reading myself write, whatever, same/diff).  So, without further ado, here are a few of the most common “myths” about feminism that I encounter in my trollings around the Web and in my daily life:Read More »

an open letter to my dental hygienist

Dear my dental hygienist (sorry, I don’t have anything better to call you),

I’m not going to lie; as it stands, I already really hate coming to the dentist.  Well, I doubt anyone really enjoys the dentist, but for me, it’s like a torture chamber.  I have this thing about metal against my teeth, like a nails-on-chalkboard cringe-y feeling (I avoid biting my forks and spoons for this very reason), so I’m sure you can understand my distaste.  Also, I apparently have really weak enamel (I’m a very diligent brusher, promise!), because every time I come to the dentist, y’all are like, “You have 300,000 cavities!  Guess you might as well move in here for the next few weeks while we freeze your mouth and drill your teeth out of your head!”

Anyway.  I should get to the point of this letter, which has little to do with my predisposed dislike for those in the dental profession.Read More »

adventures with leather pants, part III: the pants today

Ladies and gentlemen!  I have an announcement, for which I know you have all been waiting with bated breath:

My leather pants, the pants that started it all, officially fit my body once again.

Stylishly modelling my pants with my modelling partner, Rocky.
Styled here with on-trend baggy sweater, leopard-print socks, and small, simple-minded dog.

I don’t have to suck in to do them up, I can breathe, and there will be no lacerations should I decide to sit down.  I will now be able to resume my dream of appearing to be a dominatrix biker-chick.  Can you hear the Hallelujah chorus?Read More »

an open letter to the girl who sat behind me in lecture last week

Dear girl who sat behind me in 18th Century Literature and Culture,

I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. Well, it’s possible you at least know who I am, and think I am an annoying keener, because I tend to participate in class discussion frequently, unlike you and your band of sniggering gossip girls. I don’t usually sit in that spot, but when some dude who never comes to class decided to take my usual seat, I was forced to choose somewhere else. That is how I came to be in front of you.Read More »

adventures with leather pants, part II: an observation

To preface, I will note that I actually planned to write this back in March, shortly after the first post.  However, for reasons you may or may not remember from that other thing I wrote, I obviously did not.  Thus, I will say that time has likely muddled my memories slightly, but the general happenings did happen and the message still rings true.  And now, back to our story…

Last time on the Leather Pants Saga, after realizing that I had become too fat to wear my leather pants properly, I proceeded to spend the evening wearing my pants secretly unbuttoned.  My stomach made it through the night free and unscathed, and I looked super awesome in my pants.

On this particular night, my lovely Edinburgh flatmate and I were attending a gathering at a friend’s place.  Like many such nights, the plan was to hang out and pre-drink at the friend’s and then move on to a bar/club.  However, I was sick with a cold, and my flatmate had to be up early the next morning, and we were both hella broke, so we were not planning to join our friends for the bar portion of the night.  There were about 15 people at the gathering, and we knew most of them, so all was fine and dandy.Read More »

4 trials and tribulations of growing up mixed-race

For those who don’t know/can’t tell, I am of mixed-race heritage.  Half-Asian, to be exact.  My mother hails from the Czech Republic, while my father is Korean (yes, South Korea. I would definitely not exist if he was from North Korea).  Thus, I look like some strange hybrid of a human being, and many seem unsure of what to do with me – are racist jokes appropriate, or not?  The turmoil folks must feel upon meeting me!

Having lived this mixed-race life for over 21 years now, there are a handful of observations I have made that I would like to share with the general public.  Of course, my experiences will differ from those of other mixed-race individuals (even other half-Asians), so this is by no means an all-encompassing Guide to the Lives of Mixed People.  But, without further ado, I present my own personal list:Read More »