I live in fear of the phrase "Back in my day,". Not because I have a secret terror of hearing a nostalgia laced story that I've almost certainly heard before, but because of what the phrase represents. Unlike its cousins "When I was a kid," "When I was in college," "Back when my kids were little," the phrase is some amorphous indicator of a bygone time when the speaker felt relevant--and a sure sign that they no longer feel so.
At some point, people seem to feel that they are guests in a world that no longer belongs to them. Some feel it after some random age that they've ascribed for themselves--30 used to be the popular choice, although it's been recently taken over by 40. Others feel it when they have kids or grandkids. Still others walk past the display of People and US Weekly, fail to recognize anyone on the cover, and decide that they've passed the point of the target audience, and therefore, have seceded their "day".
When you relegate your "day" to the past, you're letting go of the world. If the "day" belongs to someone else, it means you know longer are an active participant in the world. You're as much a relic as the giant statue of Ben in the Franklin Institute, nothing more than a slightly chattier testament to history.
Here's the true story though: Today is your day. If you are alive to read this, then you are as relevant as you choose to be. Deciding to cut ties with the events and technologies of the world is relegating yourself to a supporting role at best. Human beings get a measly amount of time for a "day" before we go into that good night, so there's no point on embracing the sunset before we have to. Fight to be a part of the world today.
Because it's yours.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Pants and Masculinity
Today, I was innocently wasting several hours of my time on Pinterest as a reward for not out and out murdering my family, when I had the misfortune of beholding this:
Once Upon a Time, Men Wore Pants
There is so much wrong with this ad that I've decided to address it in four points:
1. I don't believe in a feminist fairy tale where the world would be a utopia if women had been in charge. The closest humanity will ever come to the best version of ourselves is when there is an equal distribution of opportunity, and people contribute to society in the way that suits their individual talents and desires, heavy emphasis on the INDIVIDUAL. That said, this mystical time has not ever happened, and despite the sorry state of current affairs, this is as close as we, the human race, has ever been. Whoever created this ad, nostalgic for days when men were in charge, must also admit that the worst of humanity: the invention of the atomic bomb, pollution, slavery, the Holocaust, witch hunts, et al, all happened when everyone sitting in the hot seat was also sporting wood. So whomever created/agrees with this ad can have all the credit of chivalry and progress if and only if they're willing to take the blame for all the bad stuff.
2. If eating a salad or drinking a latte is corrupting your masculinity, you don't have enough masculinity to bother mentioning it at all. A real man is not threatened by the equality of women, a real man does not dwell in the fictional past, and a real man is not impugned by his beverage.
3. Opening the damn door does not make you a hero. It cures no disease, eases no worry, halts no war. Let go of the idea that a polite gesture should net you a medal and a parade. Women have always been able to open their own damn doors. It's not that hard. Aim higher if you want the title of hero. The men AND women of our armed forces are heroes. Our police, our firefighters, our EMTs are heroes. Our nurses and doctors are heroes. Teachers and librarians are heroes. Parents who make the tough calls and actually discipline their kids are heroes. The world is not in short supply for heroes.
This is the most important point of all, which is why I've saved it for last:
4. NO ONE TOOK YOUR FUCKING PANTS! We simply noticed that your pants were nice, and allowed for greater freedom of movement, and thought, Hey! We want some. Women are wearing our own pants (which are cuter, and have a greater variety of styles, for the record). Nobody took men's pants away. Nobody left them locked in the kitchen shivering and naked from the waist down. Pants have not gone anywhere. Men have not gone anywhere. Real men have been here all along, eating steak and salad, drinking beer and lattes, being partners and friends to each other and to women. While the milquetoast and mundane men have been ballyhooing that the era that truly appreciated them is long past and baying for its return, real men have been growing and learning the whole time.
And they kept their pants.
Once Upon a Time, Men Wore Pants
There is so much wrong with this ad that I've decided to address it in four points:
1. I don't believe in a feminist fairy tale where the world would be a utopia if women had been in charge. The closest humanity will ever come to the best version of ourselves is when there is an equal distribution of opportunity, and people contribute to society in the way that suits their individual talents and desires, heavy emphasis on the INDIVIDUAL. That said, this mystical time has not ever happened, and despite the sorry state of current affairs, this is as close as we, the human race, has ever been. Whoever created this ad, nostalgic for days when men were in charge, must also admit that the worst of humanity: the invention of the atomic bomb, pollution, slavery, the Holocaust, witch hunts, et al, all happened when everyone sitting in the hot seat was also sporting wood. So whomever created/agrees with this ad can have all the credit of chivalry and progress if and only if they're willing to take the blame for all the bad stuff.
2. If eating a salad or drinking a latte is corrupting your masculinity, you don't have enough masculinity to bother mentioning it at all. A real man is not threatened by the equality of women, a real man does not dwell in the fictional past, and a real man is not impugned by his beverage.
3. Opening the damn door does not make you a hero. It cures no disease, eases no worry, halts no war. Let go of the idea that a polite gesture should net you a medal and a parade. Women have always been able to open their own damn doors. It's not that hard. Aim higher if you want the title of hero. The men AND women of our armed forces are heroes. Our police, our firefighters, our EMTs are heroes. Our nurses and doctors are heroes. Teachers and librarians are heroes. Parents who make the tough calls and actually discipline their kids are heroes. The world is not in short supply for heroes.
This is the most important point of all, which is why I've saved it for last:
4. NO ONE TOOK YOUR FUCKING PANTS! We simply noticed that your pants were nice, and allowed for greater freedom of movement, and thought, Hey! We want some. Women are wearing our own pants (which are cuter, and have a greater variety of styles, for the record). Nobody took men's pants away. Nobody left them locked in the kitchen shivering and naked from the waist down. Pants have not gone anywhere. Men have not gone anywhere. Real men have been here all along, eating steak and salad, drinking beer and lattes, being partners and friends to each other and to women. While the milquetoast and mundane men have been ballyhooing that the era that truly appreciated them is long past and baying for its return, real men have been growing and learning the whole time.
And they kept their pants.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Four Anti-Feminist Disney Princesses....and Why They Deserve a Break
Modern audiences have advocated feisty, role-model worthy female protagonists for films directed at little girls, citing
the Disney Classic Princess canon as examples of female passivity on film, exacerbating being pretty, getting married,
and waiting for a prince to rescue them from their admittedly crappy lives as worthy female goals. Starting with Beauty and the Beast in 1991, the female heroines of Disney films became more proactive, with Belle assisting in her own
rescue, followed by Jasmine doing the same in 1992's Aladdin, Pocahontas (1995) and Mulan (1998), where the
heroines serve as the actual action girls, rounding out with Tianna (The Princess and the Frog, 2009), Rapunzel
(Tangled, 2010), and Pixar's Merida (Brave, 2012) being the most active, fully-rounded characters in the pantheon of
Disney heroines. However, the trend starters for Disney's Princess films were stronger and more vivacious characters
than modern audiences give them credit for, and deserve some recognition for their more admirable qualities:
1. Aurora (Sleeping Beauty, 1959)
Sleeping Beauty is criticized most often for "First Guy Wins", in that, having been rescued from the evil sorceress/ dragon Maleficent by Prince Phillipe, Princess Aurora marries him, despite the fact that he's a total stranger and perpetuates the idea that women are prizes earned for acts of bravery.
Why She Deserves a Break
Phillip isn't a total stranger to Aurora. Back when she was still known as Briar Rose, he showed up in the forest while she was waxing poetic about the prospect of meeting a prince and falling in love, and the two of them had a brief flirtation:
Once Upon A Dream
Granted, it's no leading an army or single-handedly defeating the Big Bad, but at least Aurora was in puppy love for the guy, which is a sight better than the original fairy tale, wherein the prince wins the princess just for the kiss, her feelings be damned. Aurora and Phillip are also betrothed to marry anyway, to unite their kingdoms, which again seems way too close to the idea of "Free Princess with Purchase" before acknowledging that Phillip is also being used as a political pawn, and has to marry her regardless of his feelings on the subject. He has to work for it too, as Sleeping Beauty apparently doesn't deem a kiss as sufficiently heroic and requires that Phillip be imprisoned, fight through a thorn maze, and slay a dragon, which at least has him do more to earn his happy ending than his spiritual predecessor Prince NoName from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Speaking of...
2. Snow White (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937)
Poor Snow White. It really is a curse to be so beautiful. Her stepmother is all set to kill her over her delicate, unwrinkled features, leaving her running for her life in the harsh wilderness of an untamed forest in an imminently impractical ball gown. The huntsman does spare her life because she's so pretty, which must be why she's so cheerfully singing with woodland creatures while she does free menial labor for a house full of strange men, because women, if they're not making babies, are only good for cooking and cleaning.
Why She Deserves a Break
First of all, it's not free menial labor. She's paying for room and board using her specific skill set, which given that she's royalty, it's amazing she has even basic cleaning skills. Plus, take a look at the dwarves' cottage:
Whistle While You Work
That place is NASTY! She's not rearranging a stack of books and putting away laundry, she's making a sticky, unhygienic hole into a livable, healthy home. That's a basic survival skill, finding or creating a serviceable shelter when you're lost. And, she's assembled a workforce, dictating tasks according to each animal's abilities and showcasing impressive managerial skills, which is more than can be said for another princess who talks to animals...
3. Cinderella (Cinderella, 1950)
1. Aurora (Sleeping Beauty, 1959)
Sleeping Beauty is criticized most often for "First Guy Wins", in that, having been rescued from the evil sorceress/ dragon Maleficent by Prince Phillipe, Princess Aurora marries him, despite the fact that he's a total stranger and perpetuates the idea that women are prizes earned for acts of bravery.
Why She Deserves a Break
Phillip isn't a total stranger to Aurora. Back when she was still known as Briar Rose, he showed up in the forest while she was waxing poetic about the prospect of meeting a prince and falling in love, and the two of them had a brief flirtation:
Once Upon A Dream
Granted, it's no leading an army or single-handedly defeating the Big Bad, but at least Aurora was in puppy love for the guy, which is a sight better than the original fairy tale, wherein the prince wins the princess just for the kiss, her feelings be damned. Aurora and Phillip are also betrothed to marry anyway, to unite their kingdoms, which again seems way too close to the idea of "Free Princess with Purchase" before acknowledging that Phillip is also being used as a political pawn, and has to marry her regardless of his feelings on the subject. He has to work for it too, as Sleeping Beauty apparently doesn't deem a kiss as sufficiently heroic and requires that Phillip be imprisoned, fight through a thorn maze, and slay a dragon, which at least has him do more to earn his happy ending than his spiritual predecessor Prince NoName from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Speaking of...
2. Snow White (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937)
Poor Snow White. It really is a curse to be so beautiful. Her stepmother is all set to kill her over her delicate, unwrinkled features, leaving her running for her life in the harsh wilderness of an untamed forest in an imminently impractical ball gown. The huntsman does spare her life because she's so pretty, which must be why she's so cheerfully singing with woodland creatures while she does free menial labor for a house full of strange men, because women, if they're not making babies, are only good for cooking and cleaning.
Why She Deserves a Break
First of all, it's not free menial labor. She's paying for room and board using her specific skill set, which given that she's royalty, it's amazing she has even basic cleaning skills. Plus, take a look at the dwarves' cottage:
Whistle While You Work
That place is NASTY! She's not rearranging a stack of books and putting away laundry, she's making a sticky, unhygienic hole into a livable, healthy home. That's a basic survival skill, finding or creating a serviceable shelter when you're lost. And, she's assembled a workforce, dictating tasks according to each animal's abilities and showcasing impressive managerial skills, which is more than can be said for another princess who talks to animals...
3. Cinderella (Cinderella, 1950)
Cinderella has no ambitions except one night of fancy fun at the prince's ball. It's the only thing she looks forward to in
her life, and she will gladly work as a slave in her own home without benefit of a decent bed or food just for the
possibility of attending. Yank away that one shining dream, and be prepared for her to....accept defeat tearfully but
quietly. Cinderella does literally nothing for herself. Without the intervention of her fairy godmother and her animal
friends, she wouldn't have even had the chance at the ball she so desperately wants to attend, and only the prince getting
smitten over her rescues her from a life of drudgery, which apart from that one night, she never even aspired to escape.
Why She Deserves a Break
Cinderella is basically a victim of psychological abuse. She's completely at the mercy of her stepmother, and has been since the death of her father when she was very young. She works as a slave in her own household (watch Downton Abbey sometime to get a scope of how many people are needed to clean and maintain a house that size. The movie makes it clear that, with the exception of mice and birds, Cinderella is taking on that load herself), and has no ambition for freedom and escape because it's the only life she knows. And despite outward appearances, Cinderella is no candy- coated personification of sugar-sweetness:
A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
Pay attention to the lyrics. She's clearly miserable about her lot in life, but so dejected and beaten down that the fight has gone out of her, and her dreams are all she has to keep her on the healthy side of sane. Having a fanciful dream to fantasize about is her coping mechanism, a device employed by abuse victims the world over. It's hard to aspire to great things when getting through the day is a monumental physical and mental chore. She should be applauded for getting out of bed every day in her position, unlike other heroines who have a stronger foundation for ambition...
4. Ariel (The Little Mermaid, 1989)
The youngest daughter of the Sea King has all the powers and privileges of the ruling family of the ocean, giving up her culture, power, exploratory freedom, and species to join an alien world to be with a man who loves her so much he can't tell the difference between her and a nominally similar looking sorceress who doesn't even have the same hair color. In the ocean, she's even free to pursue research on a foreign creature, with the caveat that she not directly fraternize with the seemingly dangerous subject of her study, a privilege that is rescinded when she breaks that rule. On land, she can't talk and she brushes her hair with a fork, showing once again that having a man is paramount.
Why She Deserves a Break
Ariel is truthfully the bravest princess in the Disney pantheon. The movie makes it clear that her fascination with human culture predates the events of the film, and she is the most knowledgable merperson on the subject of humanity's qualities, for good and ill. She has the bravery to defy her father specifically because she knows better what the dangers of being near humans are. She wanted to join the human world before she even met Prince Eric:
Part of Your World
She's intellectually and scientifically curious about events and ephemera that she simply cannot experience under water. Further, she doesn't actually attempt to join humanity until her father destroys all of her artifacts, research, and laboratory, giving her the option to "go native", or forever give up her dream to understand the human world. Given the opportunity to do hands on research, she was willing to physically maim herself to achieve her goal. Jane Goodall would consider her a badass, without even factoring in the idea that her pioneering mission to join humanity was a radical step towards eradicating racism between merfolk and people, and broadening the horizons of both groups. Ariel is not a fantasy princess, but a political one.
Why She Deserves a Break
Cinderella is basically a victim of psychological abuse. She's completely at the mercy of her stepmother, and has been since the death of her father when she was very young. She works as a slave in her own household (watch Downton Abbey sometime to get a scope of how many people are needed to clean and maintain a house that size. The movie makes it clear that, with the exception of mice and birds, Cinderella is taking on that load herself), and has no ambition for freedom and escape because it's the only life she knows. And despite outward appearances, Cinderella is no candy- coated personification of sugar-sweetness:
A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
Pay attention to the lyrics. She's clearly miserable about her lot in life, but so dejected and beaten down that the fight has gone out of her, and her dreams are all she has to keep her on the healthy side of sane. Having a fanciful dream to fantasize about is her coping mechanism, a device employed by abuse victims the world over. It's hard to aspire to great things when getting through the day is a monumental physical and mental chore. She should be applauded for getting out of bed every day in her position, unlike other heroines who have a stronger foundation for ambition...
4. Ariel (The Little Mermaid, 1989)
The youngest daughter of the Sea King has all the powers and privileges of the ruling family of the ocean, giving up her culture, power, exploratory freedom, and species to join an alien world to be with a man who loves her so much he can't tell the difference between her and a nominally similar looking sorceress who doesn't even have the same hair color. In the ocean, she's even free to pursue research on a foreign creature, with the caveat that she not directly fraternize with the seemingly dangerous subject of her study, a privilege that is rescinded when she breaks that rule. On land, she can't talk and she brushes her hair with a fork, showing once again that having a man is paramount.
Why She Deserves a Break
Ariel is truthfully the bravest princess in the Disney pantheon. The movie makes it clear that her fascination with human culture predates the events of the film, and she is the most knowledgable merperson on the subject of humanity's qualities, for good and ill. She has the bravery to defy her father specifically because she knows better what the dangers of being near humans are. She wanted to join the human world before she even met Prince Eric:
Part of Your World
She's intellectually and scientifically curious about events and ephemera that she simply cannot experience under water. Further, she doesn't actually attempt to join humanity until her father destroys all of her artifacts, research, and laboratory, giving her the option to "go native", or forever give up her dream to understand the human world. Given the opportunity to do hands on research, she was willing to physically maim herself to achieve her goal. Jane Goodall would consider her a badass, without even factoring in the idea that her pioneering mission to join humanity was a radical step towards eradicating racism between merfolk and people, and broadening the horizons of both groups. Ariel is not a fantasy princess, but a political one.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Defending Geekiness
I was recently the subject of some (friendly--at least I hope so) ribbing by some family members for my alleged "geekiness", which I put in quotation marks because their definition of being a geek is the fact that I was incredibly excited for the latest episode of The Walking Dead, which if you have to read that link to know what it is, I'm sorry, but I am just baffled as to how you even found this blog, but I digress. In any case, the plebeians don't know just how deep the geek goes, but in any case, one of the words thrown around was "pathetic", which just for context you should know that this family event took place during the Eagles' bi-week, which means our home team wasn't playing that day, and it was specifically set up that way, and also the cousin who called me pathetic didn't know that Italy was shaped like a boot.
I internalize damn near everything I hear, which yes, I know I shouldn't, but it stuck in my craw, this allegation of being "pathetic". Sometimes I think the only things that stick are the ones I suspect, or fear, are true. Society has long regarded the attendees of Comic-Con as geeks who live in their mothers' basements and lost their virginity somewhere around never. Even though superhero movies, comic books, sci-fi, fantasy, and other media and genres of that ilk are enjoying a mainstream run right now, and a non-too-shabby take at the box office, there's a definite line in the sand between the regular audiences, who are enjoying what's being presented to them, and the geeks, who seek out the new, the cool, the weird, and who take to message boards to pick apart the lastest episode or installment of whatever it is that they love best. Geekdom is enjoying a heyday, and heydays, as they are wont to do, end. Don't know when or why, but being a geek will fall out of fashion as swiftly as it fell in. Most people will move on to whatever the next cool thing is, and the geeks will still be blogging about who would win in a fight between Batman and Iron Man. It's what we do.
So, is the fact that we still mourn Firefly a testament to our tenacity or evidence that we can't move on from something as inconsequential as a tv show? Are we above the mainstream who follow trends like sheep, or are we stubbornly refusing to evolve? Are geeks pathetic?
I've thought long and hard over that question and the answer I came up with is a resounding maybe. Maybe the fact that I took a day off work to meet my favorite author and drove all the way to the great back ass of nowhere because God forbid he do a reading in an easily accessible place in a major city does smack of sadness, even if I don't regret doing it for one second and I got his autograph TWICE, so that makes the harrowing drive on a highway that terrifies me totally worth it. Maybe the fact that a new album, or a new movie, or hell, even a new episode of something I love gets me excited to the point that my squealing hurts my dog's ears makes me a sad sack.
But I don't care. Maybe a new book or upcoming concert is a stupid reason to get myself excited, but I have something to look forward to almost every day. There is always something to be excited about, and even after I've seen/heard/experienced it, I can go over and over the nuances ad infinitum. I'm proud that I can keep the entire cast of Game of Thrones straight without double checking or referring to the complicated addenda in the books (which I did read anyway). While everyone in my house is half-watching the latest episodes, I'm fully engaged in a medieval world that has fucking dragons. While my cousins roll their eyes and tell me I'm pathetic, they're bored out of their skulls and I'm gleefully anticipating how Daryl and Merle are going to reunite, and I'm loving every minute of it. And unlike the Eagles, who are frankly a source of near-constant disappointment, nothing in my geek menagerie topples my good mood, even when favorite characters die or story lines bulldoze through previously established plots.
Maybe I'm weird and maybe I have a distorted sense of reality, but I'm also damn happy, and I think I speak for all geeks, whether they love movies, comics, TV, books, social media, music, tech, or some combination thereof, when I say I feel sorry for anyone who doesn't get wildly enthusiastic as regularly as we do.
Life's too short to be disaffected.
I internalize damn near everything I hear, which yes, I know I shouldn't, but it stuck in my craw, this allegation of being "pathetic". Sometimes I think the only things that stick are the ones I suspect, or fear, are true. Society has long regarded the attendees of Comic-Con as geeks who live in their mothers' basements and lost their virginity somewhere around never. Even though superhero movies, comic books, sci-fi, fantasy, and other media and genres of that ilk are enjoying a mainstream run right now, and a non-too-shabby take at the box office, there's a definite line in the sand between the regular audiences, who are enjoying what's being presented to them, and the geeks, who seek out the new, the cool, the weird, and who take to message boards to pick apart the lastest episode or installment of whatever it is that they love best. Geekdom is enjoying a heyday, and heydays, as they are wont to do, end. Don't know when or why, but being a geek will fall out of fashion as swiftly as it fell in. Most people will move on to whatever the next cool thing is, and the geeks will still be blogging about who would win in a fight between Batman and Iron Man. It's what we do.
So, is the fact that we still mourn Firefly a testament to our tenacity or evidence that we can't move on from something as inconsequential as a tv show? Are we above the mainstream who follow trends like sheep, or are we stubbornly refusing to evolve? Are geeks pathetic?
I've thought long and hard over that question and the answer I came up with is a resounding maybe. Maybe the fact that I took a day off work to meet my favorite author and drove all the way to the great back ass of nowhere because God forbid he do a reading in an easily accessible place in a major city does smack of sadness, even if I don't regret doing it for one second and I got his autograph TWICE, so that makes the harrowing drive on a highway that terrifies me totally worth it. Maybe the fact that a new album, or a new movie, or hell, even a new episode of something I love gets me excited to the point that my squealing hurts my dog's ears makes me a sad sack.
But I don't care. Maybe a new book or upcoming concert is a stupid reason to get myself excited, but I have something to look forward to almost every day. There is always something to be excited about, and even after I've seen/heard/experienced it, I can go over and over the nuances ad infinitum. I'm proud that I can keep the entire cast of Game of Thrones straight without double checking or referring to the complicated addenda in the books (which I did read anyway). While everyone in my house is half-watching the latest episodes, I'm fully engaged in a medieval world that has fucking dragons. While my cousins roll their eyes and tell me I'm pathetic, they're bored out of their skulls and I'm gleefully anticipating how Daryl and Merle are going to reunite, and I'm loving every minute of it. And unlike the Eagles, who are frankly a source of near-constant disappointment, nothing in my geek menagerie topples my good mood, even when favorite characters die or story lines bulldoze through previously established plots.
Maybe I'm weird and maybe I have a distorted sense of reality, but I'm also damn happy, and I think I speak for all geeks, whether they love movies, comics, TV, books, social media, music, tech, or some combination thereof, when I say I feel sorry for anyone who doesn't get wildly enthusiastic as regularly as we do.
Life's too short to be disaffected.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Seeking Myself
I like to pride myself on being highly self-aware, and if I actually were, that would be a hell of a thing to take pride in. But, I'm not. The only way I know of to gauge how I'm feeling is open an extra tab on my laptop while I'm working and search for songs. I don't know what kind of mood I'm in until I hear what I've selected for myself.
Something Corporate or New Found Glory: nostalgic for my teen years
My Chemical Romance or Green Day: either melancholy or exuberant--they have a wide range
The Beatles or Queen: nostalgic for my childhood
Beyonce/Lady Gaga/P!nk/Katy Perry: amped up and vaguely pissed at the male gender. Tends to occur once a month.
Broadway tunes: highly energetic. Often involves dancing. It's rarely, if ever, pretty
Avenged Sevenfold: angry
Celtic Woman: Irish (yes, Irish is a mood)
As special as I like to believe I am, I wonder if I'm the only one who gauges their own mood by the choices they subconsciously make. Feel free to comment if you do the same, and with what.
Something Corporate or New Found Glory: nostalgic for my teen years
My Chemical Romance or Green Day: either melancholy or exuberant--they have a wide range
The Beatles or Queen: nostalgic for my childhood
Beyonce/Lady Gaga/P!nk/Katy Perry: amped up and vaguely pissed at the male gender. Tends to occur once a month.
Broadway tunes: highly energetic. Often involves dancing. It's rarely, if ever, pretty
Avenged Sevenfold: angry
Celtic Woman: Irish (yes, Irish is a mood)
As special as I like to believe I am, I wonder if I'm the only one who gauges their own mood by the choices they subconsciously make. Feel free to comment if you do the same, and with what.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Why "The Walking Dead" is Different from Other Shows
What I do in preparation for other season premiers:
Rewatch the previous season's finale
(Re)read the source material, if it exists
Set my DVR
And that's pretty much it. If I could, I'd organize a watch party with my friends, but since all my favorite shows air on Sunday nights and I have to wake at the ass-crack of dawn to go to work, I generally watch alone and text my friends during the show. And then we get on with our lives. Which we have, despite all evidence to the contrary.
What I do to prepare for the Walking Dead
Gas up and change the oil in my car
Go to the drugstore and refill my first aid kit
Target shooting with my dad
Rewatch both previous seasons in their entirety (Don't judge me! AMC was running a marathon and my pajamas are really comfortable)
Reread the comic
Watched about a dozen interviews
Set my DVR
Reread my first aid manual
Now, in all fairness, I am retaking my CPR certification for work this week, and I've had to change my oil since about May, so this weekend was not only an exercise in anticipation for more zombie-killing goodness (and Michonne! Yay, Michonne!), but also shit I had to get done anyway.
Doesn't change the fact that I know how far I have to drive to find redneck country (half an hour north and half an hour east. The joys of living in suburban Pennsylvania!). Rednecks, as TWD has taught me, are primed to handle the apocalypse. I doubt any of the real life rednecks I'll have to team up with will look like Daryl Dixon, but in the event of a national disaster I'll take my chances with the uggos.
Also doesn't change the fact that I know where the nearest prison is located and three different ways to get there.
As for going shooting with my dad?
That's just fun.
Rewatch the previous season's finale
(Re)read the source material, if it exists
Set my DVR
And that's pretty much it. If I could, I'd organize a watch party with my friends, but since all my favorite shows air on Sunday nights and I have to wake at the ass-crack of dawn to go to work, I generally watch alone and text my friends during the show. And then we get on with our lives. Which we have, despite all evidence to the contrary.
What I do to prepare for the Walking Dead
Gas up and change the oil in my car
Go to the drugstore and refill my first aid kit
Target shooting with my dad
Rewatch both previous seasons in their entirety (Don't judge me! AMC was running a marathon and my pajamas are really comfortable)
Reread the comic
Watched about a dozen interviews
Set my DVR
Reread my first aid manual
Now, in all fairness, I am retaking my CPR certification for work this week, and I've had to change my oil since about May, so this weekend was not only an exercise in anticipation for more zombie-killing goodness (and Michonne! Yay, Michonne!), but also shit I had to get done anyway.
Doesn't change the fact that I know how far I have to drive to find redneck country (half an hour north and half an hour east. The joys of living in suburban Pennsylvania!). Rednecks, as TWD has taught me, are primed to handle the apocalypse. I doubt any of the real life rednecks I'll have to team up with will look like Daryl Dixon, but in the event of a national disaster I'll take my chances with the uggos.
Also doesn't change the fact that I know where the nearest prison is located and three different ways to get there.
As for going shooting with my dad?
That's just fun.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Vampire Sex Novels
I'm currently reading about 16 different books, one of which is Deborah Harkness' Shadow of Night. It's basically Twilight for people who don't congratulate themselves on knowing who Shakespeare is but are overwhelmingly impressed with their knowledge of Christopher Marlowe's existence. For the purposes of this post knowing that the female protagonist, Diana Bishop, is an author insert if ever there was one and the love interest is Matthew, a millenia-old vampire of unspeakable beauty who is hopelessly smitten with said protagonist due to....reasons, is already more than you need to know.
It isn't my place or right to criticize another writer, especially one who can, you know, finish a book, which already makes her way more talented and accomplished than me, but I do have a question for anyone, Harkness, Meyer, all their ilk who write romance novels with a vampire as the hero. Exactly why must they all have cold skin?
Every vampire romance novel I've heard of in recent years has made a point of describing the vampires as having skin as cold and pale as snow. They linger lovingly over this detail, and remind the reader of it at least once per chapter, lest we forget how ethereally unhuman they are. And that's fine. I get why a creature who avoids sunlight and is essentially a perfectly preserved corpse is cold and white. There's a logic in that. And if those descriptions went only that far, I could live with it. But these are romance novels, so we know at one point in the series, if not the individual story, we are getting a sex scene. And at some point, that scene is going to mention again how cold a vampire's skin is.
ALL. OF. THEIR. SKIN.
It doesn't take a discerning reader to realize that these sex scenes are blatant culminations of a fantasy wherein a gorgeous man/rakish bad boy who has dodged love and commitment for centuries consummates his love with the self-appointed Plain Jane who has reformed him from his wicked ways because she and her love are just so indefinably "special". Clearly they are designed to titillate the reader, who is at this point picturing herself as the heroine, having wild, biologically impossible, endlessly thrilling sex.
With a dicksicle.
The most egregious thing is that these novels are written, for the most part, by women. Women, who are tapping out their fantasy sex lives on gorgeous antique typewriters like real authors use, and the thing they apparently all crave in bed is a popsicle shoved up their hoo-has.
I must ask all female readers and writers alike, when did this become a thing? These books sell like hotcakes and 99 times out of a hundred it's not due to the elegant prose or rich plots, so am I now in the minority because I don't want to flash freeze my lady parts?
I'm not saying I don't get the appeal of ice cubes during funtimes...especially in the summer when the air conditioner is broken. But they are supposed to stay out of the main event. I don't know what woman went to the gynecologist for her annual check-up and decided she wanted to enjoy the fun an icy speculum brings to the party on a regular basis, but I do want to know why she decided to tell the world that she was not alone in her frozen fetish.
And I'd also like to point out that she's a liar and a gross minority before the trend escalates and guys start taking ice showers before sex in a sweet but wildly misguided attempt to please their partners. Please don't do that.
At least not without asking.
It isn't my place or right to criticize another writer, especially one who can, you know, finish a book, which already makes her way more talented and accomplished than me, but I do have a question for anyone, Harkness, Meyer, all their ilk who write romance novels with a vampire as the hero. Exactly why must they all have cold skin?
Every vampire romance novel I've heard of in recent years has made a point of describing the vampires as having skin as cold and pale as snow. They linger lovingly over this detail, and remind the reader of it at least once per chapter, lest we forget how ethereally unhuman they are. And that's fine. I get why a creature who avoids sunlight and is essentially a perfectly preserved corpse is cold and white. There's a logic in that. And if those descriptions went only that far, I could live with it. But these are romance novels, so we know at one point in the series, if not the individual story, we are getting a sex scene. And at some point, that scene is going to mention again how cold a vampire's skin is.
ALL. OF. THEIR. SKIN.
It doesn't take a discerning reader to realize that these sex scenes are blatant culminations of a fantasy wherein a gorgeous man/rakish bad boy who has dodged love and commitment for centuries consummates his love with the self-appointed Plain Jane who has reformed him from his wicked ways because she and her love are just so indefinably "special". Clearly they are designed to titillate the reader, who is at this point picturing herself as the heroine, having wild, biologically impossible, endlessly thrilling sex.
With a dicksicle.
The most egregious thing is that these novels are written, for the most part, by women. Women, who are tapping out their fantasy sex lives on gorgeous antique typewriters like real authors use, and the thing they apparently all crave in bed is a popsicle shoved up their hoo-has.
I must ask all female readers and writers alike, when did this become a thing? These books sell like hotcakes and 99 times out of a hundred it's not due to the elegant prose or rich plots, so am I now in the minority because I don't want to flash freeze my lady parts?
I'm not saying I don't get the appeal of ice cubes during funtimes...especially in the summer when the air conditioner is broken. But they are supposed to stay out of the main event. I don't know what woman went to the gynecologist for her annual check-up and decided she wanted to enjoy the fun an icy speculum brings to the party on a regular basis, but I do want to know why she decided to tell the world that she was not alone in her frozen fetish.
And I'd also like to point out that she's a liar and a gross minority before the trend escalates and guys start taking ice showers before sex in a sweet but wildly misguided attempt to please their partners. Please don't do that.
At least not without asking.
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