The First Year
So, it’s been just over a year since I finished university – I graduated in June 2016, which feels like an almost comically long time ago now. And, in the months that have intervened, I have found things…well, different.
So, it’s been just over a year since I finished university – I graduated in June 2016, which feels like an almost comically long time ago now. And, in the months that have intervened, I have found things…well, different.
It’s been a quiet week blogward and, with my family visiting and just so much work to get done, the rest of August looks like it’s going to be thin on the blog-ground as well. I’m hoping to have a Quit Smoking Diaries entry and a Fifty Shades recap up in the next week, but meantime, let’s return to another addition of TV Characters I Would Fight!
We are raped and we are raped and we are raped and we are raped.
I went to see Hounds of Love today, writer/director Ben Young’s debut feature revolving around the story of an suburban Australian couple (played by Emma Booth and Stephen Curry) carrying out a series of violent abductions, rapes and murders to assuage his twisted sexual appetites. We pick up as they abduct Vicky (Ashleigh Cummings) and carry out a series of physical and sexual assaults on the teenager, and a battle of wills begins between the younger woman and the older.
So, I recently finished up the latest season of Orange is the New Black (yeah, yeah, I know, slow on the uptake). I thought it was pretty good overall, but one subplot in particular seems to have caught the eye of a lot of reviewers and viewers alike is the one revolving around Tiffany Doggett and Charlie Coates.

I’m content right now. I’ve been listening to eighties pop, trying to French inhale with my new vaporiser, and dancing with the cat all night, and I feel good. Which feels like something close to a miracle, because a few months ago, I was so depressed that I was legitimately struggling to get out of bed in the morning, and when I’m in those states, it feels like the only thing facing you is this unassailable wall of shit, on the other side of which is another, more festering, more rancid pile of shit – you know, something like Game of Thrones’ treatment of women in season four. It feels fucking endless, and even though I could lie there, one hand in the eleventh bag of crisps of the day and the other to my mouth so I could chew off what remained of the skin around my fingers, and know that I had gotten out of worse in the past, I just for the life of me couldn’t see a way out of this one. It felt permanent – terminal, in the least fatal way possible.
So, I write a lot about Doctor Who on this blog, and there’s a question that I haven’t addressed yet. One that, with the end of Peter Capaldi’s tenure as the show’s lead drawing to a close, has been asked more and more: why is the Doctor always a white dude?

It’s bisexual pride day today! Let’s celebrate by addressing some fuckin’ biphobia.
What does deconstructing femininity look like?
Because I know how we construct femininity – the same way we do masculinity, through a collection of social, historical, and cultural influences that tell us that if we are born with a certain body type or identify with a certain gender than we should act a certain way. That’s not hard to understand. But what I want to know is what a deconstruction of that would look like through the lens of pop culture.