I liked the daisies when we saw this painting on Antiques Roadshow tonight. I looked for more work by the artist and found others with the same colours and simple images. The daisies and the full moon painting at the end are my favourites of those I found. More information: George Ault’s World | Arts & Culture | Smithsonian
Are Women Really Sex Objects?
Don’t mean to start a big fight on this fine Sunday morning – but here I go anyway.
When you really think about it, I mean really think about it, aren’t women really sex objects. We try to say they aren’t soooooooo much but, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, women are nevertheless seen as sex objects. We try to hide it as much as we can but don’t we still really believe it anyway?
Of course women are not just sex objects. I feel that we have fooled ourselves into seeing men and women as equals. Women see themselves as objects of sex appeal and guys see every girl as a potential ‘fun night’ – or more – no matter what they say.
Why do women get breast implants? To have better posture? Why do women apply makeup? For sun protection? Why do women spend time and money improving their looks – at the expense of time devoted to enhancing skills and building experience? Because it is fun obsessing over looks?
Maybe you’d say “yeah, you’re right, but the point is that it is wrong and we have to strive to correct the situation.” To that I would reply with this – why spend so much time and energy fighting against our instinct? Against our nature? Look at what amazing things can happen when we go with our instincts – we get to the moon. Look what happens when we fight our instincts – we get a war on drugs that costs money and doesn’t fight drugs.
Why not admit that women are seen primarily in terms of their sex appeal and embrace the truth. It will set you free – and hopefully set them free of their clothes!
What do you think?
First of all, this is assuming all women fit this stereotype. All women wear cosmetics, get bigger boobs, and apparently we don’t get old (or too old) either.
Secondly, there is the idea that cosmetics and etc. are all about changing or creating an appearance on the outside. Yes, of course, that is part of it. But, most women I know like to feel they are looking good. (I don’t think that’s just a woman thing, or a sex thing, or a gender thing).
Do women (or people in general) want to look good in order to be sex objects? Some likely do. I’m sure it’s not 100% however.
This brings up the question… Are men really sex objects? Which makes me think about what makes a person a sex object in the eyes of the beholder? We all have our own view of what is sexy.
Also, last of all, a sex object seems like an inanimate object, something you can pick up, use and discard. I don’t think we should be looking at anyone that way. In the end, it’s the reason I don’t think men or women are sex objects. But, some day there will be sex robots and those will be objects, animated in a mechanical way but still not human. (At least not for at least a generation or three).
Warm water, soft candlelight, the moon the only light outside my window. Water caresses my skin with the intimacy of a lover. I stretch like a cat, arching my back, not caring that my hair is now in the bath oil. I rub a circle around and around my nipple, making it hard. The luxury of time, alone. The candle’s glow was like a border keeping out the rest of the world.
Written for the Erotic Flash Fiction Challenge.
Indie Bloggers Weekly Challenge – One word regarding:
You volunteer to be the first resident of the darkside of the moon, manning a cramped receiving station. One day you wake up to alarms, no internet, no video and your printer has spooled 30 linear feet of pages covered with a single word:
I know I’m not really human now. If I were human, rather than alien or robot or… something, I would be bursting open at the seams by now. I was really hungry, I’ve been trying to not eat much for a couple of weeks. But today I ordered pizza. I ate it too. I don’t know how that much pizza is inside of me and yet I don’t feel disgustingly full and bloated. I feel fine. I don’t feel hungry, that’s a nice change. But, no mortal should eat that much pizza and not explode. Just call me Pizza Grrl.
I put chicken on it. I’ve never liked pepperoni really. The chicken was good. Maybe that’s why I’m not feeling stuffed. The chicken was lighter than pepperoni which does not come from a bird creature. Therefor it can not fly. Chickens don’t really fly much but the option is there. I’m sure it all makes sense somehow. After all, I can’t really be an alien. I still have all that old paperwork from the US immigration, I think. Besides, I was born here. My Mother said so. So I shouldn’t be an alien as long as I’m still in Canada.
Maybe I should update my passport just to be on the safe side. In case someone realizes I’m an alien and tries to deport me. Where do aliens get deported if they were never from the planet to begin with?
There’s a question for the day. I’m not all that keen on any of the other planets and the moon is just too chilly looking. I’d like something with a little beach, water and maybe a forest off in the moutain area. Of course, I want something with a good Internet connection too. I’m sure someone will work it all out. Last slice of pizza to whoever comes up with a good plan for cosmic alien deportation!
I’m surprised to still be getting replies to my personal/ dating blurb on Craigslist. That was at least two weeks ago.
Anyway, tonight I got one which said “love to chat” followed by an email address.
Well, if you love to chat why would you only send an email address? If you love to chat wouldn’t you have mountains of things to say? Sure the first email is the hardest but, spare me, anyone can manage to say SOMETHING about themselves.
Love to chat… but I expect you to do all the talking/ typing.
Love to chat… but hate to communicate.
Love to chat… but savour every one of my words and hoard them to myself.
Love to chat… but only using IM software.
Love to chat… but only on nights with a full moon.
Love to chat… but prefer using invisible ink.
Love to chat… but only use a minimum of four words at any one time, minimalist.
Love to chat… but I’m a very private person.
Love to chat… but I always expect you to start, always.
Love to chat… but only if you agree to cyber sex first.
Love to chat… but you need to tell me how much you charge first.
Love to chat… but I had sudden amnesia.
Love to chat… but I just remembered girls have cooties.
Love to chat… but only during the commercials.
Love to chat… but need to take my medication and tell all the voices to stop bugging me.
I love pixel art. I’ve been admiring it for years. I just don’t know how it’s done, though I’ve tried to read tutorials. I’m also not sure what makes one graphic pixel art and not another. I thought all pixel art were those really tiny pictures. But, I’ve seen big ones now too.
I’m slightly confused.
Here are more tutorials:
This site offersyou can download. I don’t know how well it works, no guarantee from me here. Actually, you can pretty well assume there is never any guarantee from me. It would be the really odd time I’d ever want to committ to anything in that nature.
– Of course the original link is 404 now, as are all sites from Geocities.
For ancient cultures, the hearth was the center of the home.
It was the provider of warmth through the harsh winter months,
and also provided heat for cooking all meals. It was the
gathering place of the household.
Fire has a special attraction for all of us. Within its
smoke and flame lie the origin of many religions.
Fire, the element of transformation, causes change to occur. It can be
destructive, but through destruction comes creation.
The fire in the house was never allowed to die. It was considered
unfortunate if the household fire went out during the night.
If this occurred, hot coals would need to be borrowed from neighbors.
If the coals died while being transported home, it was an omen
that the family would have an unlucky future. Continue reading Spirituality for the Home
Here in this body are the sacred rivers: here are the sun and moon, as well as all the pilgrimage places. I have not encountered another temple as blissful as my own body.
“I have found, through years of practice, that people garden in order to make something grow; to interact with nature; to share, to find sanctuary, to heal, to honor the earth, to leave a mark. Through gardening, we feel whole as we make our personal work of art upon our land.”
– Julie Moir Messervy, The Inward Garden, 1995, p.19
“I do not understand how anyone can live without one small place of enchantment to turn to.”
– Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings