I went to see the Vagina Monologues tonight.  They were very good.  Afterwards we sat on the stage and chatted about the next shows we're all doing and locked up.  I love that theatre and all the people in it, including the ones that occasionally make me very, very upset.

I would like to make a serious point, however, and one that rarely gets aired, because it is not really a very chic thing to say.

What I would like to do is to reclaim the taboo of the c-word.  You know the one I mean.  The one Germaine Greer did the programme on saying it shouldn't be a taboo.  Well I think it should.

Can we get it straight, before I go any further, that I am not a prude.  If you know me you will know that I am liberal and open about these things, occasionally too much for my own good, but that's how I am.  I swear - not too often because the less said the greater the punch, to an extent, so my objection to the c-word is not that I don't like talking about these things; nor is it that I think it will offend people.  Clearly it does offend people.  Before you quote Stephen Fry at me saying that people usually get offended on behalf of other people as opposed to themselves, I know people who are offended by the c-word.  Personally.  For their own sake.  Because they don't like it.  They, also, are reasonable, forward-thinking people.

The reason I want to reclaim the taboo of the c-word is that it is an expression that is not clinical or amusing, and if it enters common, acceptable usage then I don't think it'll retain that.  The c-word, say what you will about it, is taken seriously.  When you say it, you don't usually say it lightly.  When you hear it, you know that it is not meant to be clinical, and it is not the sort of thing you ordinarily snigger at.

It's not a terribly good analogy, but take the colloquial use of 'harsh'.  If you tell someone they are being harsh, that's something that you have to consider, something that's maybe breaking the rules, something that's important.  It's not formal, but it is serious.  It's not a joke.  It's an almost universal signal among a generation that what is being said should be considered seriously but not threateningly.  The way it has retained this is by not being over-used.

The same I think is true of the c-word, at the moment.  It's a serious word, used sparingly but forcefully, and I think in the way that there is a certain nuance to the meaning of 'harsh' that seems to be recognised, there's a nuance to the c-word that it can be used in that sense.  Yes, it's an insult.  Anything that's sparsely used can be an insult.  I honestly don't see a problem with that.  Horrendously fearful expletives come in and out of fashion.  It's how it is.  (Edit: upon rereading, not a clue what I was trying to say first time round.  Think this should make sense now.)

The reason that I like that the c-word is like this is because it makes me feel like I have a choice.  (Here's where the Vagina Monologues come in...)  With the gentleman's anatomy, you have penis, which is frankly clinical (I'm sorry.  It has a Latin ending.  In no possible way is that arousing.), or you have the variations summarised in verse format by Monty Python.  There is no serious word.  Surely everyone wants to be taken seriously, at least to some degree?  That's not a feminist thing.  I thought it was universal.  I thought nobody wanted to be laughed at or reduced to a clipboard observation.  I thought if you wanted to be taken seriously, language would be a good way to do it.

I'm aware that this misses out a lot of the subtleties but it's been a long day.  I just like that something is still private, still up to me to talk about if I want to, or not as the case may be and there's an excuse for that, and if I do want to, it's still capable of being taken seriously because there is a term that is little-used enough and taken seriously enough to have the right effect.

I've deliberately avoided writing the word in this blog because I don't know who reads it and if I were to offend you I'd rather it was intentional.  (This also makes sense if you think about it.)  If I read this when I next have a moment it might get revised fairly drastically.  I can hardly type at the moment, let alone form a coherent and exhaustive argument.

This would be a serious, election-related post, but I've discovered (to my utter surprise, of course) that when I get started on politics I tend to get a bit carried away.  (Sorry, J.)  So I will assume you've thought about it, applaud you for doing so, and direct you to Washminster in my blogroll if you're at all interested in anything political but don't think you know that much about it.  I found it a month or so ago.  It's a gem.

So, aside with the world-changing events; bring on the frivolity.  Hurrah.

Yesterday evening, a friend of mine told me I was diplomatic.  This made me very happy for a number of reasons: firstly, it's a very lovely thing for anyone to be told, secondly, it's something I would like to be seen as, and thirdly, it means that at least for some time, in some people's eyes, I've beaten my own nature.  This cheers me up.

But the swag!  Yesterday, I went back to York to meet up with M for coffee and bounty-hunting.  We were successful on both counts.  I know I've mentioned before my quest for the button shop of glory and finally, third time lucky, the shop and I reached an understanding.  To the tune of this:



A veritable mountain of buttons!  Yes!  So everything I make for months on end (probably years, she says with undisguised glee) will have at least one of these sewn onto it.  For posterity like.  Top marks to you if you can see the one with the car on it.  That one makes me happiest.

Oh.  And of course.  I was in York.  It is practically sacrilege to return without spending a fortune in my favourite shop in the whole city...



The colours are in no way done justice.  I have already decided on patterns for them.  They're going to be beautiful. (And thank you, they are gorgeous fingerless mitts I'm wearing, now you mention it.  Wonder where I've seen those before...)

In the meantime, the theatrical whatnot is building up in my room, as is the panic, so I shall leave you to whatever you were doing (distractions, tsk!) and go and play with the shinies.  Yes.  It's one of those days.