Let's talk about consent.

Brock Turner has served half of his six month sentence and his being released. He was convicted of sexual assault. He was guilty.
And he served three months for a "youthful indiscretion" that caused a lifetime of trauma.
Drunken sexual assault is not a "youthful indiscretion."

It's rape and it's destructive and it needs to stop.

So here are a few pieces of advice to anyone who's considering raping someone. There aren't original thoughts, but here they are in one place:

• Don't. If you need sex that badly, get help. Others would advise you to get a hooker, but there's clearly something deeper going on. You need help.
  
• You need an actual "yes." You need real consent. You need to be told that your advances (which should always start with genuine interest and not just a desire to have sex) are wanted and that your desires are reciprocated.
  
• Previous consent does not mean current consent
  
• Drunk consent is not consent.
  
• Previous rejection does not turn into consent under the influence of drugs and alcohol.
  
• Previous rejection should be respected and not challenged.
  
• Don't deal with rejection by going to a party and waiting for someone to be drunk enough to be convinced.
  
• If he or she has said "no," that's when you stop. It doesn't matter how close you are to finishing. Your pleasure doesn't matter once you've been told to stop.
  
• Your pleasure needs to stop being your first priority.
  
• Again, drunk consent is not consent. Even if it seems to be, it's not. Drunk sex is not good sex. Sex without consent is not good sex. It's rape.
  
• If you have to "have sex" with someone behind a dumpster, you're not doing it right. Unless you're both sober and think it's exciting. Even then, it's a dumpster. There's garbage juice on that ground. You're going to end up with a nasty infection and it won't have been worth it.
  
• You own your own body. Only your own. You have no rights to any one else's body unless they are offered freely.
  
• Don't wait for someone to be drunk in order to try to have sex with them. That's not how it works. And you need to stop using that excuse when you're accused.
  
• Just stop. You won't get in trouble for staying home with a bottle of lotion. (Although porn is a whole other layer of this.)
  
• Seriously. Unless you actually have a psychological disorder, you won't get any real pleasure from this. 

I know that a blog post by some rando won't do much, but if I can make one person think or make one more voice heard, I will be fine with my small influence.

Stop trying to take ownership of anyone's body or life other than your own. Stop making your urges the most important thing.

I think your "Always" tattoo is ridiculous.

This post contains opinions that I have been formulating for years. I know that it will offend some people and will possibly cause you to regret something that caused you pain and cost you money. For that, I apologize. If you are proud of your tattoo, be proud. I won't tell you to your face, but I want to point this out and maybe save someone the time and money.

Let me start by saying that I'm a huge Harry Potter fan.

Okay, I read the books often and own all of the movies and really want to go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I do not involve myself in Pottermore and I don't seek out new information that J.K. Rowling puts out about the universe. I don't need it. And I can't spend that much time on one thing.

But I am very serious about this one thing:


Severus Snape is an obsessive creep.


I know, that might be a controversial opinion and you're already preparing to fight with me. But please, hear me out.


1. Young Severus "watched" Lily Evans and observed her magical powers. He had already been indoctrinated with Pureblood supremacy ideology enough to mock Petunia for being a jealous Muggle.

2. He remained obsessed with Lily through the rest of his life, but his prejudices were so ingrained that he called her a "Mudblood" and refused her help when she tried to defend him against the Marauders. Yes, he apologized and tried to make things right, but that kind of slip of the tongue doesn't just happen. (Is this also evidence of self-loathing, since he is also not a Pureblood wizard?)

3. He called himself the "Half-Blood Prince." He thought so much of himself that he could give himself that title.

4. He joined Voldemort. He became a Death Eater. He made that choice and was probably somehow involved in the abuse and/or murder of Muggles or Muggle-borns.

5. He only came to Dumbledore in order to beg him to save Lily. Not James. Not her son. Just Lily, whom he likely hadn't seen in years and who was actively fighting the oppression that he was part of.

6. He was horrible to Harry. It makes a certain amount of sense, because he was staring at the face of the man who not only bullied him at school but won Lily's heart; and, in that face were the eyes of the woman he loved. And the existence of this child was the reason Lily was killed.

7. His Patronus became a doe at some point because he was so desperately in love with Lily. Lily's Patronus was a doe either because it changed to match James's stag or because it was some kind of sign that they were meant to be together.

For Snape to still be that much in love with a woman he had pushed away, who had married and had a child with someone else, is creepy. If we took this story out of the context of this world that we love so much and put it in real life, he would not be someone we would admire. We would not celebrate that kind of commitment from an actual person.

Yes, teenage James Potter was a jerk. He and Sirius preyed on Severus because he was studious and greasy and poor. Remus didn't stop him. Peter was just a mess and ultimately ruined the lives of so many people.

Yes, Snape pledged his loyalty to Dumbledore, even to the end. He ultimately gave Harry the key to the whole thing. He was a kind of hero and as a layered and complex character, he was brilliantly written. However, this thing that is quoted and permanently inked onto people's bodies and used as wedding decorations is awful. Don't celebrate this creepy love.

And yes, I did give seven reasons. No, it was not intentional. (Can you find the eighth reason I never intended to create?)

I got married and then...Mrs. Smith

We've been married for almost ten months.

I know, you haven't received the thank you notes that I promised you four months ago. Chill, please. It'll happen. I'm sorry.

I've been training for a new job, worrying about where we're going to live in a few months, and sleeping through headaches for several Saturdays in a row.

But it's been five months since I wrote a post and I have something to write about right now, because I've been working for ten months to change my stupid name. (I love my name, but it's been quite the process, and I still have work to do.)

About a week after our wedding, I drove to the other side of town to the Social Security office to apply for a name change and a new card. It was a simple process, changing "Swanson" to a middle name and making "Smith" my last name. I was given a receipt, but I didn't look closely at it.

After a couple week, my card hadn't arrived. I checked the receipt and the mailing address was incorrect. Now, before you worry that my card was sent to a stranger who would steal my identity, the address it was sent to did not exist. It would be returned to the Social Security Administration as "Undeliverable." When I realized this, I called the local office and explained the situation. I was told that the name change had been successful, that I didn't really need a card for my everyday life, and that I could either go on without worrying about it or come back to the office and apply for a new card.

Because I was only getting paid for the hours I worked, I didn't want to take time off to take care of it. I didn't need my card for anything, and I knew my name was officially correct.

Once I was hired full time and had vacation days, I took a half day. I drove across town again. I sat for over an hour waiting for my number to be called. I explained my issue again to the woman at the window. She asked me what my name was supposed to be. "Hope Elizabeth Swanson Smith" She gave me a receipt. The address was correct, the name wasn't quite right, but the last time I went I was told that there weren't enough available characters but that the card would be printed correctly.

A few days later, I opened the mailbox and found the envelope from the SSA. "Yes! She got the address right!"

I opened the envelope, pulled out the card, and found myself in a blind rage. "Hope Elizabeth Swans Smith." SWANS! Swans. That is not my name. That is not what I said, and she didn't give me the opportunity to review the information. It also doesn't make much sense, since she had our marriage license with "Swanson" on it. Isn't it logical to assume that that's the name I wanted?

Also, it was the same woman who got the address wrong, even though she was looking at our marriage license with the correct address.

I spent the next week annoyed that my options were to either deal with it and finally get my swan tattoo or take more time off. The hours at our local office don't allow for me to go after work or on the weekend, which I can almost understand. It also adds an item to the list of reasons why the government is the worst. (It's not, and I've written about it, but it's frustrating and inconvenient.)

I woke up a week ago and was sick enough to stay home from work. I was pretty miserable, but I decided to take advantage of the day and make the trek across town AGAIN to explain the situation AGAIN. I took Dan with me this time.

Congratulations to the office for getting a new check-in computer in the last month!

I got to work with a different woman, who was much more helpful and understanding. She let me check and confirm the information and the name that would be printed on my new card. She gave back my first card, even after taking a Sharpie to it and voiding it (I'm too sentimental for my own good and started crying when I realized that this card that I've had forever would be destroyed). She was very sweet and I am so thankful for her.

And yesterday I opened the mailbox and found Saturday's mail. Behold, an envelope from the Social Security Administration. Behold, inside that envelope, my new Social Security card.

Behold, Hope Elizabeth Swanson Smith. My name. My real, official, preferred name. After ten months, three visits, plenty of tears and frustration, I have my new name. It's done.

I still have to get a new driver's license and passport in the next couple of months, so stay tuned.

I got married and then...Thank You Notes.

We've been married for five months. It's been really difficult. Like, really. I have cried a lot. We've argued about really stupid things. We've hurt each other (not physically. Well, not intentionally. With malicious intent.)

I've had to reexamine my goals and my purpose. I've had to seriously think about why I wanted to get married and why I wanted to marry Dan. Sometimes I don't have those answers in the moment.

We don't have great jobs. We don't have our own health insurance. We don't have a lot of money to spend on frivolous things. Our schedules don't typically allow for regular meals together. We don't cook normal meals anyway. Dan will cook a big batch of something that will give us leftovers for a few days. I eat a lot of dry cereal and make a lot of pasta. We're not very good at being fully-functioning adults. But we're learning.

It has also been really good. We're committed to being a team and facing all of these things together. We know that the way things are now is not the way things will always be, and we know that we get to decide some of the ways things will change.

And here's something we've (I've) been struggling with since before we got married.

We still have not written all of our "thank you" notes from our wedding. We've done a few, and I spent some time creating hand-stamped notes, but these things are probably the worst thing about having had a wedding. Seriously. I was fine with standing in heels for a few hours. I loved the feeling of my dress. It wasn't great that we didn't greet everyone and there are definitely people who we wished could have been there. But the process of writing these stupid notes is weighing on me more heavily than any research paper deadline or conversation I've been avoiding. I want to sound sincere and share how we've used each gift and say how important each person has been to us. But I only have so much sincerity to go around, and Dan isn't any better.

So here's the plan:
We're not going to write them. WE'RE NOT GOING TO WRITE HANDWRITTEN, PERSONAL "THANK YOU" NOTES TO EVERYONE WHO GAVE US A WEDDING GIFT. Instead, we will write a "here's what has happened in our first six months of marriage" letter, kinda like a Christmas letter (also something we're not going to do often), and write a brief personalized note at the end when we physically sign our names.

If this bothers you, I'm very sorry. We're a new generation. We're changing the way things are done because that's what Millennials are supposed to do. I understand the importance of etiquette, and I know that Emily Post would shoot me dead if she could. But she's dead. And you're getting a real update on what has been going on in the life of the Smiths, instead of a slightly vague, very late, disappointingly cliched note that you might not even be able to read (my handwriting isn't great). We are thankful to have had such great support and encouragement on our wedding day and in the months before and after.

We'll be drafting this letter soon and sending them out in the next month. We love our friends and family, and we want you to know about the adventures of our marriage to this point.

And that's what happened after I got married. I should probably get back to work.


By the way, this will be a new blog series that I might turn into a book someday.
I'll be writing about

• living in a tiny apartment
• sharing a bed (almost) every night
• division of labor
• family events
• crisis moments

and probably some more situations that we've faced. Get ready for some real life and some humor (that won't translate well into text).