quelle erqsome...

where the women are

As someone who's writing a PhD about a distinctly male-dominated field, I am constantly aware of the fact that women are, if not utterly underrepresented, then certainly overlooked in the majority of mass media. I think this is why I was rather delighted to see Dorian Lynskey explain the poor representation of women in his new book 33 Revolutions per Minute: A History of Protest Songs.

It's a very thoughtful article and largely an articulate explanation. I do think he contradicts himself to a certain extent by stating

If you were to draw up a list of the most influential 20th century world leaders, a minority of women would be an accurate reflection of the reality, but if you overwhelmingly favoured men in a tally of key 19th century novelists then you’d be doing something wrong.

After all, it wasn't until the feminist movement began searching for female voices in 19th century literature that women writers were actively added to the canon and became revered. I think the same really can be said of women in pop culture in the 20th century (and once we stop thinking 'feminist' is a dirty word, we'll start advocating them, too).

Nonetheless, Lynskey offers a particularly well-observed reflection on the backlash against female artists who dare take a stand on political issues and provides a fantastic selection of some of music's most vocal feminists. In this way, Lynskey helps to remind us that the only way we'll ever see change is to make choices that promote change -- even if the choice in question is to spend our money on strong women fighting against the double standards of patriarchy for true equality.

in which i explain my whereabouts

So, I've been working in-house at my old publishers again, two days a week, for nearly a month and I cannot believe how it's affected my ability to do things. For one thing, actually having spare cash to go out -- awesome! For another, total exhaustion and a subsequent flake out on the sofa when I get home -- awful.

I've been cycling the 25 minutes from my house to Vauxhall, an exhilarating way to start the day if there ever was one, then taking the train out to the office where I induce forced brain collapse for 7 hours. Then I take the train back to Vauxhall and cycle sweatily home again. I actually rather enjoy the way this new routine makes me treasure the time I have for my research, but it's knackering.

I fully appreciate that anyone who actually works in an office FIVE DAYS a week will now either be flipping me the bird or laughing at me for being such a wuss. But as well as working in-house, I've also started teaching at uni again (little first years for critical theory, two seminar groups, loving it) and have started working with a new supervisor while my old one is on sabbatical, which means I REALLY have to work now. I'm glad for the change, really though, as I was getting too complacent with my old supervisor.

I've not had any time to sew at all for three weeks, which SUCKS. However, my knitting time has been completely amped up. The train journey affords me at least 40 minutes every day just for knitting, which is lovely. When I get home in the evening, I usually try to get some reading done but for the most part I flop in front of the TV and knit some more. I've watched more utter drivel in the last month than I have in the last five years.

My radio silence over the last few months has been driven by two key factors, both of which I've wanted to keep largely to myself but for very different reasons.

The first is I'm betrothed! I turned 30 and was whisked away by my dearheart to Paris, where, while breakfasting on the south bank of the Seine, Matthew clutched my hand nervously as he got down on one knee, produced a diamond-bedecked nose stud and asked me to marry him. I laughed and cried and said yes and it was wonderful. I LOVE being engaged, having an Engagement Freckle is giddingly lovely, but I cannot wait to get married. Marriage is going to be fucking awesome. Matthew is the most wonderful person I have ever known and it is my privilege to be part of his life. While marriage has never been something we've particularly discussed, knowing we're going to do it seems to have made everything brighter, more vivid and more pertinent.

The second thing also brought us closer, but for less awesome reasons. In August I miscarried. It was very early-stage, I couldn't have been more than about three weeks along, and quite unplanned; other than the faintest of faint pink lines on the home pregnancy test, the miscarriage was the one clear confirmation I was pregnant in the first place. Although I can rationally commend my body for rejecting a collection of unhealthy cells, I really wish it had done so less dramatically. Most early-stage miscarriages go practically unnoticed, with none of the symptoms attached. I, on the other hand, had the ginormous boobs, the strange pulling and stretching of my body as it got its womb together, the sudden waves of faintness, the hypersensitivity to smells and taste, the inability to concentrate on anything for more than three minutes... And all of that lingered with sick cruelty for the next six weeks (damn you, nature!). Regardless, it sucks but good things have come out of it: for the ten days between my beginning to think I might be pregnant and the actual miscarriage we both got super excited, which bodes well for when it does happen.

In any case, I've been mostly blogging over at Loumms, but as I've started teaching again and working in-house again, and want to start delving into my personal life again, I'll be here more often. For real this time.

ravelympics 2010 - the sleeves are set

Not long ago I realised that the only way I was ever going to finish the goddamn Lace Panel Cardigan was if I had a deadline. I work better to deadlines set by other people, so the Ravelympics seemed like the logical way to go.

Last night, I set in the sleeves. Score 1 to me!

Tonight I plan to seam the sleeves. Arianna asked me why I hadn't just knit them in the round, like any sensible person would do. I have no answer to this, other than a misguided determination to follow the pattern though. This was clearly a ridiculous plan. I don't mind seaming, but the prospect of it does make me lazy.

I have two other cardigans that need finishing -- one being Matthew's Skinny Boy Cardigan, the other being my poor lamented Bridie -- if I can get Lace Panel done by this weekend, I'm going to move on to the next. If I can manage a hat trick, I will consider this whole Ravelympics thing a wild success.

Of course, it doesn't help that people keep adding patterns to Ravelry. Or maybe I just need to stop looking at the Pattern page...

Love Bugs are admittedly a little twee, with all those hearts, but they look like they'd be both interesting to knit and fun to wear -- plus, there's something about that colour that I adore.

 

The Chandelier Fingerless Gloves, on the other hand, are both delicious intricate and wonderfully practical. I could use a pair of these while out good-studenting. 

the best in classroom defence

I know, technically my arm would do just as well. But how ingenius is the X-7 Defender CLP - Paper Airplane Launcher? Unfortunately it is sold. Probably to the very asshat who'd start the war across the British Library (damn you, Humanities Roomers! Up Rare Books and Music!) and not to the poor, beleaguered and defenceless scholars (semi-, pseudo- and real alike) who just want to get on with trying not to breath on ancient pages.*

Fortunately, the Mirco is still for sale. There is hope for us yet.

*Speaking of trying not to breath on ancient pages, I spent all yesterday doing just that! For months I've been trying to get my hands on even paperback copies of William Le Queux and it turns out he is just as hopelessly out-of-print as I suspected. Hurrah for the British Library!

I think I may have unnerved the person behind the desk, because I got very bouncy and excited when I saw it was wrapped up in fine muslin to protect it and then carefully kept in a cardboard box for extra safe keeping. It's very hard to be bouncy and excited when you're also trying to be respectful and quiet so as not to disrupt the rest of the library. I'm certain she thought I was dangerously close to running for it, book in hand, or that I really, really needed to pee. 

Unfortunately, the book itself turned out to be a bit of a stinker. The text, I mean. The book smelled lovely and bookish. No, the text was hilarious, unfathomable and disappointing, but never quite at the right intervals. I'm in the process of writing it up on The Spy Project now.

a group of three

Some things in life are really rather splendid, here are three from this weekend:

1. I've been completely obsessed with Karen O's soundtrack to Where the Wild Things Are. It's admittedly pretty twee, but it makes me want to jump and run and dance.

2. We went for a gourmet burger yesterday for a late lunch. I had a double mushroom burger with feta, pesto and red onion and tomato relish. It was heavenly. I also had a thick strawberry milkshake. It was sublime.

3. I met Laura's little Emmms on Friday. What a way to start the weekend! She's amazing. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given Laura always has awesome hair, Little Emmms came out of the womb sporting a pristine Mia Farrow pixie cut. Her smile is incredible, all gummy and elfin and so full of the purest of pure joy. When she sleeps she looks like a little Buddha, utterly serene and perfectly plump. She has that perfect baby-balance of edibleness and hilarity. It was very hard to leave for home.

If you declare three splendid things, let me know, please!

brain purge

I delivered a paper last night; it went way better than I thought it would. Although it's based on one of my chapters, it comprised of a huge reshuffling of ideas and because of a slew of migraines I've been having lately I only really began working on it on Tuesday. It should have been a bit of a stinker. Instead, it was met with tolerable success and prompted a really interesting discussion afterwards.

That slew of migraines makes me wonder if I should get my eyes tested. I've spent the last couple of weeks in a haze of daily pounding light-sensitive headaches. It's not as much fun as it sounds.

The British Library is ace! Why had I stopped going there? What possessed me to think the cost of transport was justification? How is that possibly justification in the face of such fantastic productivity? I've put Matthew in charge of forcing me out the door the next time I try to flake out.

The last of my (self-imposed) mandatory reading list, Think Inc. by Adam Diment, came in the post last week. It is a. awesome and b. a really unexpected diversion from the rest of the series. Unfortunately Diment sort of disappeared after this one was published, which is such a shame. I wish he'd kept on writing.

We bought a rug! It's a great rug! It's chocolate and turquoise and is interestingly patterned! But it's not the size it claimed to be. Fighting with the merchant over who gets to pay for shipping it back.

We Lovefilmed Hot Fuzz last week and it is indeed as funny as I remember. I have to admit I wasn't sure it would be: we watched it at the Peckham Cineplex with a crowd that was awesomely in the mood for laughing, and that's infectious. I was a bit worried my memory of an awesome flick was in fact a memory of the feeling of being around so many people having a good time. But it's hilarious. I want to watch it again.

I've started knitting the Julia socks, which is the pattern I received in the Socktoswap, in the yarn I receifed in the Socktoswap. If you have never tried Sundara, DO IT! It's a beautiful thing.

One of my cats has been nibbling on my aloe. Yeti, I'm looking at you. I hope it was tasty.

My friend from long ago who I met up with last week (who is lovely, by the way, we had a really fun time and I'm planning on introducing her to my favourite veggie hot spots across the city) has a fantastic new blog, Chairity Case. She's very modest, but I think it's awesome.

timewarp

Today I am meeting up with a friend of mine who I haven't seen since I lived in Canada -- it has to be about 7 years. She moved to my school when I was eight or nine and we became friends almost instantly. Then junior high came along and I went from social butterfly to bottom-dwelling maggot, so far as the social ladder was concerned. I had no idea who New Kids on the Block were and no interest in watching Melrose Place, and my mum insisted in sending me to school in a purple paisley corduroy trouser suit thing, complete with waistcoat. No wonder I was thrown into the loser pile, I didn't want to associate with myself in that thing.

In high school I found new friends, who liked The Cranberries and Guns n' Roses and Bjork, who thought the Improv Club was pretty awesome, who preferred hanging out backstage, tweaking stage lights and dancing to 'Shaft' (damn right). She was much cooler than me and had friends with cooler extra-curricular activities. 

We weren't friends for years. Then we went away to university and it turned out that not only did we pick the programme at the same school but we were in the same residence, on the same floor. Her room was next door to the international exchange student who would become one of my very favourite men in London.

Though we haven't been in touch in ages, mostly because I STINK at keeping in touch with people (it's genetic, my father is just the same, as is his father before him), I received an email the other day that read:

I don't know if you've heard, but I've moved to London! So glad to hear you're still here. Let's get together!!

I've asked Rory for your email address a million times but no luck. I remember it being erqsome... but not sure if I have the spelling right, or the email provider part. I hope this one works! If not, I'll try another.

Hope you are well!

 xm

so far 3 attempts! now onto a fourth try!

How awesome is that?! So, we're hooking up this afternoon for coffee and delicious vegan chocolate cake at Foyle's.

Incidentally, that's where I met up with Camille last Friday, who is just as awesome in person as she is in writing! I really do have to write about that properly, because it was such a lovely afternoon. We had coffee, then she and her friend Seanan came with me to Shepherd's Bush for a thai vegan buffet and to watch The Woe Betides get mobbed by screaming teenagers at Bush Hall. There were young girls making out with each other and then high-fiving afterwards, and boys looking agog at such displays. And there was crowd-surfing for fuck's sake! Crowd-surfing! I would have joined in but I fear those spindly teenage arms would have splintered. We need a mosh pit of rugby players at the next gig, then I'll crowd-surf.

insert flailing arms of joy here

This week has been mental in the land of Loumms.

First, our new Kanga bags were included in Lotus's Workshop gift guide.

Then we were a CanaryKnits Indie Designer feature on Friday.

And then yesterday afternoon Lou handed me a copy of The Knitter. Because one of our Sock-Perfect WIP bags is in The Knitter.

 

See that? That is us in print! I still can't quite believe it. At some point this year, that bag is going to be included in one of The Knitter's giveaways in support of Mencap, too, which I'm super excited about. I love the thought that we're going to be part of so much knitterly generosity!

find of the day

new knitty, that's not old news already, is it?

There are heaps of delicious goodies in the new Knitty, Winter 2009, and I am seriously considering throwing Christmas knitting to the wind and casting on several. Our boiler (not just our radiator) completely clapped out Friday, so we have been living with sporadic use of energy-sucking electric heaters and very minimal immersion water heater ever since. Why our boiler couldn't choose to clap out in October or February when plumbers aren't at their busiest, I DON'T KNOW.

Anyway, I have never been so grateful for hand-knit everything and so, as you may well imagine, the new Knitty has been filling my head with all kinds of gently steaming sugarplum dreams. With warm-fingered steaming sugarplum dreams from the Ailbe mitts, in particular!

Though I have no intention of knitting it, the construction and general aesthetic of Four Corners intrigues and delights me. It's a bit too hypnotic for my tastes, though, and I fear if I were to knit and wear it I would be easily swayed to do virtually anyone's bidding. The Mr Darcy sweater, on the other hand, is beautiful. With it's unobtrusive texture and loose, yet structured neckline, it's a perfect men's jumper and Matthew has made just enough encouraging noises for me to start hunting through my stash to see what might be suitable. I'm also quite taken with Quadrat. If I could find a suitable belt, it would cinch my decision (get it? Cinch? Hahahaha, oooh, I'm witty).

There are several shawls in this Knitty that just set my lace brain buzzing. Perhaps because it's the festive season or perhaps just because I fantasise about food the way some people fantasise about Edward (though in a less swoony, vampiric, illicit love kind of way -- I hope that's obvious...), the idea of Bitterroot and Citron completely captivates me. I could easily cast either on today, yarns deliberated and everything.

Of course, the cowls in this issue need a mention, particularly when I could soon be going Incognito -- though I don't think I'm going to make one for myself (I prefer the subtlety and unexpected nuance of my mustache liner), my brother-in-law's Secret Santa gift might be solved! And in quite an opposite vein, the rich delicacy and elegance of Burning Embers is so sublime that I might have to pull a Yuvee and do nothing else for a day to get one round my neck. It's shaping (and fantastic use of buttons) makes it a perfect covering for these frosty mornings.