Pseudoephedrine Hydrochloride

While my sinuses slowly drain, I must take a moment to reflect on the inclusion of pseudoephedrine restrictions in the Patriot Act. The longer I follow the tedious process of making laws, the more I realize that you can't say what any law is about. The Patriot Act certainly isn't about patriotism, but it isn't about drug laws even though there are national requirements for the use of drugs in The Patriot Act. Unless you're a pharmacist, meth addict, or someone prone to sinus infections, it probably doesn't register that personal information is being routinely stored to satisfy the government's war on drugs.

Don't even try to tell me that I should move on to other decongestants because they don't work as well. For a time, ephedrine and pseudoephedrine were banned in California (surprised that it was California?), and during that time, I had one giant sinus headache and a cabinet full of cold remedies. Now I have to swipe my driver's license and sign my name for a simple over-the-counter decongestant. Where that information is being stored is a mystery to me. If that information is compromised, it is a mystery to me. If the gov't takes a look and starts a database, it is a mystery to me.

Sex Index

Inspired by Mistress Matisse, my own sex index:

Beginnings:
Age at which I first had sex: 14
Age at which I first had a BDSM scene: 17
Age at which I had my first poly relationship: 19
Age at which I had my first three-some: 20
The first time someone asked me to marry him: 18
The times I've been proposed to: 1
The number of significant others I have lived with: 1
The age at which I first had sex with a woman: 19
The number of relationships I've had with women: 0
The number of long term relationships I've had: 5
The number of LT relationships I've had at the same time: 2

Depravity:
The number of times I've had sex with more than one person: I've lost count
The number of times I've had sex with an audience: I've lost count
The number of times I've had sex with a virgin watching: 1
The number of times I've had sex with a virgin: 1
The number of times I've introduced someone to BDSM: 2
The number of times I've had a cathartic experience instead of a sexy one: 3
The number of times I've bled during sex without menstruating: 3
The number of times I've been caught having sex: 1
Number of times someone from a hotel had to knock on a door to get the room back: 1
Number of times I lost my panties: 1
Number of times I have been spanked in public: 5
Number of times I've had phone sex: 1
Number of times someone has tried to hit on me by explaining someone else's scene: 2 (both guys were over 40 and new to BDSM.)
Number of women who have tried to convince me I'm a lesbian while hitting on me: 1
Number of people I've had to straighten out about how they top me: 1

Now, if you made down the list, I suggest you make your own sex index.
And don't be such a prude!

One of the Best Situations in Which to Have a Panic Attack

I used to think that panic attacks were only for people who can't hack it. Turns out, it is for me. Still, if you were going to have a panic attack I think the student health center is a pretty good place. I had actually gone there because I was experiencing dizziness and I fall down a lot even without vertigo. Of course after "an episode" in the waiting room, they decided that the previous symptoms were related to excessive stress, but more precisely, and inability to deal with stress in a healthy manner. I grabbed a pamphlet and drove myself home. I have an appointment tomorrow with a doctor that will make sure that it isn't a physical problem, then I can be referred to counseling services at the school. Unfortunately, I am not thrilled by the prospect of being sane one day and told to see a psych the next. I am not sold on psychiatry in general. The mere thought of having to spill my guts to a bored councilor might make me have another panic attack for the hell of it. In fact, I'm hoping to convince the doctor that it is merely exhaustion . . . manifested in sweating, yelling, and gasping in a doctor's office. That follows, right?

Supreme Court Takes up U.S. v. Marcus

The issue that interests me in this case is consent -- as in, did she want her head shaved and "slave" carved into her stomach? Or was she being held against her will? More than once a Master has dismissed a slave who felt she should not have been dismissed, and that slave then goes wherever she can to claim that the former Master is an abuser and an unsafe player. In incestuous communities like SM, this can be a major problem for the the former Master. I trust that Marcus was correctly convicted because his slave didn't consent, but every time I hear a story about unsafe tops, I get a little skeptical.

The U.S. supreme court is not really interested in the freaky particulars of the case, but have chosen to take it up to settle a dispute over the timely application of the law to his conviction. Not exactly sexy.

Read about it Here.

Horse Drama

What do horses do when you're not feeding them and brushing them? They destroy things. Mostly things like fences, water troughs, feeders, each other, etc. They will eventually break through a pen or the especially smart horse will learn how to unlock the pen (I must post on the case of Fenwick) and such was the case last night. I went down for my afternoon feeding only to find two fine specimens of horse flesh missing. Petruchio was out of town, the sun was setting, and I had two horses that might get hit on some highway. I called a friend and we set off to find the two escapees only to be perfectly baffled as too their whereabouts. It is a little hard to ask the neighbors if they have seen your horse if they don't speak English or have a very large guard dog. Usually it is both. By morning I was on the phone to animal control, hurriedly describing the situation, the danger to the public . . . to an answering machine. Apparently we need a few more funds for actual people to actually deal with animals.

Although I didn't want the horses dead, I had hoped they would learn something from the experience. They managed to find my neighbor's two horses and decided to comfortably bed down with them after a hearty meal. Petruchio got the gelding who tried to kick him after his halter went on. I was stuck with the mare, his mother, leading the way. In the three minute walk back to the pen I was afraid more than once that a neighbor's dog would get a kick in the head or that the gelding would turn unruly, but success came at last when the mischievous two were escorted into a new pen and put to bed with a little feed. Naturally I was soaked in sweat and had been for that past twenty-four hours. At this point I'm thinking that if they run off again, whoever found them can keep them.

The Menagerie

. . . and I left out the cats and three horses. Looks a little empty, no? Looks like it could use some pheasants.

Pedagogy of the Oppressed

Pedagogy of the Oppressed is a classic book on teaching that has influenced American eduction, especially Californian eduction, for decades. Petruchio had to read it as part of his seminary studies before living on the hippie commune for Christ (long story). Paulo Freire (his last name is pronounced like a cat coughing up a hairball) is a Brazilian educator and radical that wrote about the disparity between the classes in his country and how to radicalize as well as educate the oppressed masses. I have a lot of respect for a man who can go into slums and teach the peasants how to read and write. That person believes in something and has responded to an urgent problem. However, I fail to see the how useful the pedagogy of the oppressed is when applied to the middle class American classroom.

Of course the underlying ideology is liberal -- a concern with social justice and that the ends justifies the means. The objective is to radicalize (or democratize) the students so that they bring forth their communist sympathies into the world and change society. I lived through that revolution in education here in California. So let me see the results:

• Schools that were bankrupt before the budget crisis.
  
• Students that were born in this country that can't test out of EL1 and EL2 (that's bad).
  
• Number 49 in the nation as far as test scores.
  
• Ghetto school that are kept only because they are "neighborhood schools."
  
• Number 48 in the nation as far as graduation rates.
  
• Gangs.
  
• A disillusioned student body.
  

As the product of that kind of mass failure, I think it is safe to say I won't be democratizing my classroom. I will be an authoritarian who strictly enforces standards and benchmarks. However, there is one guiding feature of Pedagogy of the Oppressed that I will be following -- I will listen to the students. I do it because teaching is inherently transactional and my goals of quality teaching stand a better chance of being accepted if I bend a little to understand what my students understand.

Some More New Historicism

After sorting through a few little known texts in the Renaissance, I have to say that I found several interesting pieces, but nothing aesthetically pleasing or even provocative. It has become a problem. Studying Raleigh's badly written poetry with the meager reward of a little view to the constant desire produced by the virgin queen has ceased to be satisfying, and though we now move into authors I enjoy, like Shakespeare and Spencer, my enthusiasm has begun to wane. In short, I won't be a new historicist critic, and I don't think I'd subject a class of grad students to the honor either.

Leftovers

I think I've set a new precident for myself as far as leftovers go. My lovely Petruchio eats leftovers as much as he eats fresh food, but I have to make leftovers taste different or I would go insane. So when I had a few servings of chicken soup left over, I had to do something. I reduced the soup, cooked some bone-in chicken thighs, and added a little red sauce to make chicken catchetory. I had leftovers of that so I added meatballs (always have a few in the freezer) and some penne noodles to make a quick pasta dish. Later I'm going to take those leftovers and bake them up with plenty of cheese. After that I think we'll be through, but stretching leftovers can be quite tasty if you have the creativity to pull it off. I have come a long way from serving burned rice and raw pork chops last October.

Il Trittico

I think we encountered the outer rings of hell last night (remember your Dante?). As soon I saw the Civic Center BART station I knew we were in trouble. Trying to get off the damn train was an odyssey in itself as people stepped, shoved, and yelled their way onto the train. Thankfully some guy with his chest pained got the crowed under control enough to let passengers off. Apparently the half-naked people didn't know they were in San Francisco, judging by the perkiness of their nipples, but anything except winter gear would have been able to withstand the wind and cold of the evening, so I was shivering along with the rest of the mob. And I do mean mob. I saw Strawberry Shortcake, a guy in an alligator costume, some alien glitter shoes, lots of transparent mesh, and matching outfits galore. In other words, jerks in costumes.

The opera was amazing. Il Trittico is an opera in three acts that mirrors Dante's Divine Comedy: Il Tabarro, Suor Angelica, and Gianni Schicchi. The first two acts were amazing. Ewa Podles was beyond perfection as The Princess that punishes Sister Angelica without mercy in Suor Angelica. My only complaint is that the set of Gianni Schicchi was far too garish to be effective. It was a completely black and white art deco style, but one that made all the characters blend in to the point that they were indistinguishable from both the background and each other.

A Night at the Opera

Tonight is the night I flounce my way to the opera. It also happens to be the culmination of SF LGBT pride week. Heavy traffic expected so I am traveling via public transportation for the first time in my life. I am hoping to finally view the crazy person on the train (or bus) I've been hearing so much about. More to follow.

The Linking Game

I would probably check off a dot or two, but I'm not sure the frequent book reviews necessarily add to the titillating factor of an erotic blog. Perhaps my point of view is skewed since I don't consider a calm discussion of sex or kink to be erotic, but I sometime forget that the vanilla people don't talk about sex unless it is to ogle a waitress. You might imagine my surprise when I found myself linked to some sort of erotic blog website called Love Boudoir under the "Must-read" kinky blogs sidebar. In fact, you might notice Saphhic Harlot in the same sidebar, though I think she is more worthy of that place than I.