Notes on a Scandalous Life

Since it's been getting cold, and Abby's never around to shoo him away, I've been letting Diablo sleep inside. He's kind of dirty and smells bad, but I've let Pooky sleep in my room before, too. Besides, he's good company.
I've been dabbling in feminist lit, as usual - The Purity Myth, Yes Means Yes, and - admittedly more fun than those - The Handmaid's Tale (again), which means that guys at bars are getting lots of drunken dissertations from me about the wage gap, abstinence-only education and enthusiastic consent. I have to give it to anyone who can sit through one of these - that kind of dedication is reserved only for men who really, really think I'm the most attractive girl in the establishment. Or guys who actually care about feminism... and I'm batting for the first. Just sayin'. Diablo, on the other hand, will sit on my feet for hours on end while I read, fold pages, underline, and journal.

On top of the other excessive writing I've been indulging in lately, I've also started keeping a dream journal. I thought, at first, about making a dream blog, but I would probably end up omitting some information in the name of my reputation of a person who has retained some sanity. I've been having some pretty vivid dreams, lately, probably as a result of my overtaxed mind, which has nothing to do but run circles around itself. Maybe the next time I have a PG-13 dream that doesn't make me appear to be a total lunatic (this definitely excludes the epic quest dream I had the other night about a nuclear laser attack), I'll share it on the blog.