honest_whisper

I want to object somehow that this is my year and I have set up to be so organised and self sufficient so I don't see why at the end of one week it is me sitting in my room and crying whilst reading poetry.

I know that I'm not very good at making friends, its something that I have been aware of as such for about seven years but I know has been the case for even longer. I though that I was beyond it by now, Orkney showed me a fascinating and terrifying glimpse of a world in which I could talk openly and make fast friendships quickly and although it gave me a number of 'what if?'s  it also gave me a huge amount of confidence in my self-sufficiency that I had gone there alone and with no support and yet got on so well that I almost cried to leave. I thought that I had proved to myself my capability for independence and even wondered whether on return to the 'real world' it would seem tantalising to be unable to return. Back in a familiar context however (and without the joys of the stripey-orange beetle gang-wars) it seems that my accustomed awkwardness has returned. Instead, I cling to my routine as justification for my lack of socialising but I fear that metrics and washing up cannot sustain a year's worth of friendship.


We will see.

I know this sounds really ignorant and I guess it isn't true as I have never heard anything about it, but does HBC delay the menopause? Because if the menopause occurs when you run out of eggs then by not ovulating whilst on HBC then the eggs ought to be 'saved for later'
Or do they just have the equivalent of an expiry date so the menopause happens anyway?
Could HBC be used by women who want to have children late to ensure that they are still fertile?

*confused*

I could have spent this evening doing something useful like reading up on medieval Scandinavian manuscripts but instead I took the anti-choice bait and got all self-righteous and feminist. Or more precisely, common sense-ist.

The Society for the Protection of Unborn Children (well, at least they don't aim for subtlety) is up in arms about sex education in schools encouraging children to have sex.

Shock horror, a distressing birth scene was shown. Although they aren't overly descriptive, I get the impression this just means their Christian doctrines requires birth to be beds of (thornless) roses and a real live woman experiencing the pain of contractions, potentially some perineum tearing and the final emergence of a gooey purplish baby didn't suit their dream vision. Personally, I've seen the photos of me being born and some of my friends too (and probably an educational video in biology although I have no recollection of it and was probably reading The Elfstones of Shannerra instead) and it hasn't put me off wanting to have children, but nor has it changed my opinion that I want them to be born into a stable and loving family.

As for the fuss about information on contraceptives, they seem to forget both children's ability to gossip and to disregard anything in school unless it is repeated ten times over.

I first heard the word condom in form five when I was nine. It wasn't from a sex-ed lesson but from another girl telling her friend a supposedly funny story about people at the Venice carnival who tied them to sticks and waved them around. I was disgusted, aware that it was a rude concept and promptly forgot the word until a year later when the song

'Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do,
I'm half crazy all for the love of you
I can't afford a condom
but a plastic bag will do'
was passed in whispers around the class having originated from somebody's older sister. I suppose from about then I was aware of what a condom was but I had never seen one until I was thirteen and we were given the 'putting a condom on a deodorant can' demonstration. I was sitting on the other side of the class doodling and was only vaguely aware of the lesson. Being as innocent as I was I missed the hilarity that consumed the rest of the class when they noticed that the teacher had put it on inside-out.

The point is, despite comprehensive and age-suitable sex-ed in the final year of primary school and throughout secondary school, I still gained my main knowledge of the matter from
a) a free leaflet on puberty that came with a tampon sample
b) the dictionary for some new and confusing words
c) a wide range of fiction including A Little Love Song by Michael Morpurgo, James Joyce's Ulysses  - bit too oblique on the metaphors this one, I might have realised the existence of female orgasm if only I had noticed that the lack of punctuation in the final chapter represented it, Albion which I bought at the school fete because it had a King Arthur-style cover and was utterly horrified by the content of
d) finally, a very long way behind all that came school sex-ed.

Before they get to uptight about telling teenagers about contraceptives, they should censor the libraries.

In some ways I am ashamed of myself for having felt the need to create this alias behind which to hide because I do not believe that anything I have done ought to require concealment but I am also aware of the practical issues that having chosen not to inform my family of my abortion I would like to prevent them from learning of it third hand and that I am uncertain as to the opinion held by my friends on that topic and do not want to be labeled by it.

honest_whisper is a fairly accurate name for this. It is the true version of events and everything I wanted to say but didn't dare post on my main journal and yet everything said here is said quietly (at the moment only to myself it would appear).