05 December 2015
The Trials and Travails of Julie Shopping for Foundation.
1) Get to store.
2) Freeze up, as she usually does, at the mad number of lines to look at.
3) Start shopping.
4) This one's too dark.
5) This one's too dark.
6) This one's too dark.
7) This one's too dark.
8) This one's too dark.
9) This one's too dark.
10) This one's too dark.
11) This one's too dark.
12) This one's too dark.
13) This one's too light...wtf?
14) Oh crap, the right one is out of stock.
15) Proceed to next line, taking info from previous failed expedition.
16) Oh crap, the same name in this line is too dark.
17) So is this one.
18) And this one.
19) Come on, this isn't funny anymore.
20) Oh, this one is a match.
21) Look at price.
22) Oh hell no.
23) Go to the third line.
24) It's a match!
25) Look at price.
26) This is reasonable.
27) Then see that the whole thing is a mess.
28) Sigh.
29) Move to fourth product line while female store employee is watching.
30) 'Can I help you find something?'
31) Strongly consider telling her 'Yes. Less alabastery skin. So I can buy some fucking foundation more easily.'
32) Shake head, continue trying to work with skin tone.
33) Find one that works.
34) Price is reasonable.
35) Packaging looks good and not damaged.
36) Grab it before someone comes in and steals it out from under me.
37) Grab my damned skittles and a Coke and check out before I find out this has all been a hallucination.
And that was my day.
How about you?
02 December 2015
Julie's Vlog #4: Discussion, Dualogue, Diatribe, and other words with a D
Hello everyone, and welcome back for the fourth installment of my vlog!
Today we're talking about words and labels and respect and other Big Thoughts and Big Ideas.
(tm)
We're also talking about transphobia and what happened to me about a week ago.
And comic books. Just to lighten the mood.
Like last time, I'm providing some links below to good resources to check out. Also please...no matter your age, young or old...if you are so hurt by the world that you are contemplating extreme measures, please reach out to the first info I have below. Please. I don't ever want to have to say your name.
I love you all. Ayv gvgeyui nihi.
http://www.translifeline.org
Trans Lifeline is a 501(c)3 non-profit dedicated to the well being of transgender people. We run a hotline staffed by transgender people for transgender people. Trans Lifeline volunteers are ready to respond to whatever support needs members of our community might have.
https://community.pflag.org/transgender
http://www.glaad.org/transgender/resources
http://www.hrc.org/resources/resources-for-people-with-transgender-family-members
Nota Bene
I've not forgotten about all of you.
I have been seriously under the weather, dealing with med changes, and a very not good arthritic flare up.
I have a Doctor Who review to write, plus Tuesday was vlog day...but it was too hard to talk, so it actually got done today. I wrote this yesterday and forgot to post it, so...yeah.
Who review to come.
Soon, lovelies.
Soon.
(tm)
I have been seriously under the weather, dealing with med changes, and a very not good arthritic flare up.
I have a Doctor Who review to write, plus Tuesday was vlog day...but it was too hard to talk, so it actually got done today. I wrote this yesterday and forgot to post it, so...yeah.
Who review to come.
Soon, lovelies.
Soon.
(tm)
27 November 2015
Without music, life would be a mistake
Let's talk about growing up, you and I.
It's not a subject I touch upon with any frankness or comfort. This is not to say that my growing up was horrid, simply that I tend to look at it from a subjective fictional standpoint. Julie never had a childhood, strictly speaking...it all gets very complicated and quantum. And meta. I'm not a fan of meta. Suffice to say, when I write about my childhood, I tend to do so through a fictional lens...or a poetic lens, more accurately. Still fictional.
But this story is not.
If there is one thing I return to time and time again as the great healer, the balm for deep wounds, the life preserver (in literal terms at times), it is music. It speaks to me and for me when I have no ability to find the words I need.
I got my first stereo as a present for graduating elementary school. Combined with the fact that I finally had a room of my own, this was a pretty major development in my life. I could listen to records and tapes in my room, create mix tapes back when mix tapes were totally cool (and chicken out at giving them to anyone) and discover more music than I knew was possible.
Looking back at that, 28 years later, I laugh, because there was even more out there than I knew. But at 14, radio was the great wide open. And combined with the fact that my listening had shifted radically from pop stuff to the Doors and Frank Zappa and the Dead and so on, I was able to find stations that (at the time) sated that need. I mostly listened to WZZO out of Bethlehem...and this was in the day when their play list was significantly larger than it is now, and you actually heard deep cuts on air. So WZZO was my station.
Except for Sundays.
Sunday was for WYSP.
Early evenings were spent with Ed Sciaky on the Sunday Night Alternative. I never knew from week to week what I'd hear...ad that was the best part. I can't even remember everything I heard there for the first time...Spirit for sure, before Randy California passed away. Jimi Hendrix at the Isle of Wight Festival. Loads of other old concerts...probably early Genesis. It was magical. And one of the most magical parts was the opening, when everything was quiet and then an acoustic guitar would start playing an amazingly gorgeous melody...Jorma Kaukonen, Jefferson Airplane, and Embryonic Journey. To this day I can't hear that without being transported back to that youth sitting in their room, trying to figure themselves out and why they felt the way they did, and finding the most comfort and understanding and companionship in music.
The second best thing on Sunday nights was also on WYSP, and that was the Sunday Night Sixpack...6 albums played in their entirety. This was generally blank tape time for me, and I probably recorded a hundred tapes worth of music that I eventually bought when I got older. I discovered King Crimson, and In the Court of the Crimson King. I discovered Yes. And Emerson Lake and Palmer. And so much more.
So much of the foundation of my listening and appreciation and love of music came from those days and nights. Late night listening on headphones...moving the stereo and speakers to the other end of the room so I could slip out the window, lay down on the roof of the 1 story addition that had been built onto our house, and watch the stars while music played, always careful not to fall asleep out of fear of waking up very very suddenly.
It's not the fall that hurts, it's the sudden stop at the end.
Those days were the first days music saved me. Without it, I wouldn't be here to blog, for one reason or another. But I found solace, and understanding, and a lack of judgment in music. It asked only that I listen with an open mind, and that I gave in abundance in repayment for the gifts I received in return.
It's not a subject I touch upon with any frankness or comfort. This is not to say that my growing up was horrid, simply that I tend to look at it from a subjective fictional standpoint. Julie never had a childhood, strictly speaking...it all gets very complicated and quantum. And meta. I'm not a fan of meta. Suffice to say, when I write about my childhood, I tend to do so through a fictional lens...or a poetic lens, more accurately. Still fictional.
But this story is not.
If there is one thing I return to time and time again as the great healer, the balm for deep wounds, the life preserver (in literal terms at times), it is music. It speaks to me and for me when I have no ability to find the words I need.
I got my first stereo as a present for graduating elementary school. Combined with the fact that I finally had a room of my own, this was a pretty major development in my life. I could listen to records and tapes in my room, create mix tapes back when mix tapes were totally cool (and chicken out at giving them to anyone) and discover more music than I knew was possible.
Looking back at that, 28 years later, I laugh, because there was even more out there than I knew. But at 14, radio was the great wide open. And combined with the fact that my listening had shifted radically from pop stuff to the Doors and Frank Zappa and the Dead and so on, I was able to find stations that (at the time) sated that need. I mostly listened to WZZO out of Bethlehem...and this was in the day when their play list was significantly larger than it is now, and you actually heard deep cuts on air. So WZZO was my station.
Except for Sundays.
Sunday was for WYSP.
Early evenings were spent with Ed Sciaky on the Sunday Night Alternative. I never knew from week to week what I'd hear...ad that was the best part. I can't even remember everything I heard there for the first time...Spirit for sure, before Randy California passed away. Jimi Hendrix at the Isle of Wight Festival. Loads of other old concerts...probably early Genesis. It was magical. And one of the most magical parts was the opening, when everything was quiet and then an acoustic guitar would start playing an amazingly gorgeous melody...Jorma Kaukonen, Jefferson Airplane, and Embryonic Journey. To this day I can't hear that without being transported back to that youth sitting in their room, trying to figure themselves out and why they felt the way they did, and finding the most comfort and understanding and companionship in music.
The second best thing on Sunday nights was also on WYSP, and that was the Sunday Night Sixpack...6 albums played in their entirety. This was generally blank tape time for me, and I probably recorded a hundred tapes worth of music that I eventually bought when I got older. I discovered King Crimson, and In the Court of the Crimson King. I discovered Yes. And Emerson Lake and Palmer. And so much more.
So much of the foundation of my listening and appreciation and love of music came from those days and nights. Late night listening on headphones...moving the stereo and speakers to the other end of the room so I could slip out the window, lay down on the roof of the 1 story addition that had been built onto our house, and watch the stars while music played, always careful not to fall asleep out of fear of waking up very very suddenly.
It's not the fall that hurts, it's the sudden stop at the end.
Those days were the first days music saved me. Without it, I wouldn't be here to blog, for one reason or another. But I found solace, and understanding, and a lack of judgment in music. It asked only that I listen with an open mind, and that I gave in abundance in repayment for the gifts I received in return.
26 November 2015
A century of words and allsorts...the 100th post
This is my 100th post on this blog. I feel like it should be something special, and if I say 'this is just another collection of my random thoughts' it'll feel anticlimactic. But this is just another collection of my random thoughts. Hopefully in a day or so I'll be feeling better enough to offer something of more substance.
Yesterday I wrote about my mood issues. Oh, let's call it what it is. Yesterday I wrote about my depression and panic disorders. I wrote about the fact that I've stopped taking my anti-anxiety meds, under doctor's orders, and I'm physically fine with that. The part I didn't mention was the mood stabiliser I am on, lamictal, hasn't even come close to reaching therapeutic levels in my system. All I know, as I don't have the results of that bloodwork accessible through my patient portal thing, is that therapeutic levels are generally between 10 and 15 somethings per something, and I'm sitting right around 1. So my mood is still incredibly rough, and there are a lot of crying fits and heavy downs.
I'm not at risk of anything. I don't want to do anything to myself, or hurt myself. I just hate how I feel right now.
I haven't written in 2 days, which makes it sound like I'm being hard on myself. I'm really not, though. I'm fitting together in my head the penultimate scene for one story, and figuring out if I need to show or tell in the other at the point I'm at.
Lemmeth Plains got a slight adjustment to it's title, as I found The Incident at Lemmeth Plains to not only be a more evocative title, but also perhaps a better descriptor of the events. Besides, there's a story to come that will need a 'The Battle of' title more than this one, so out it went for another time and another tale. TIaLP is sitting at just shy of 7600 words, and I'm wagering we break 10K by the time we're done, between the last sequence and the epilogue that it'll need.
I did my most recent work on After the Ordeal 2 days previous to the above. And I know I wrote about the fact that the two pieces that I was unsure of being together or separate stories got resolved. This is really a massive character piece for another OC, who got about 4 or 5 lines of mention in a story I wrote over a year ago. I'm getting deep into back story for her, and thus the show or tell like I mentioned above. It's just over 8700 words, and again, over 10K by the time I'm done.
It's likely once I am done with all of the so-called 'Tessa Tales' I'll have invested more time and words on her than I did in my Madame Vastra/Jenny Flint novel In Her Absence (which finished at around 67K words...180-ish pages, so a short novel, but a novel nonetheless. Early/mid period Michael Moorcock length, as a lot of his novels were in the same range in the 70's). I believe there's likely five more stories to be written, but we will see.
The nice thing about stories in this range is that I can break up a character's arc into pieces, have each story a nice 'bite size' piece for people to read, and yet still have meat on the bones...substance and exposition, not rushed and bare, nor dense and languorous. There are stories that need that...I'm reading one and it's absolutely brilliant in its world building and plotting. And it's dense, and in a very good way. It's dense the way good fantasy novels are...not dense for the sake of being clever.
Tonight's listening is Alexander Scriabin.
If you're not familiar...and I would understand, as his works are often overshadowed by those of his Russian compatriots, here's some info from Wikipedia:
"Scriabin was one of the most innovative and most controversial of early modern composers. The Great Soviet Encyclopedia said of Scriabin that, "No composer has had more scorn heaped on him or greater love bestowed." Leo Tolstoy described Scriabin's music as "a sincere expression of genius." Scriabin had a major impact on the music world over time, and influenced composers such as Igor Stravinsky, Sergei Prokofiev, and Nikolai Roslavets. However Scriabin's importance in the Soviet musical scene, and internationally, drastically declined. According to his biographer, "No one was more famous during their lifetime, and few were more quickly ignored after death." Nevertheless, his musical aesthetics have been reevaluated, and his ten published sonatas for piano, which arguably provided the most consistent contribution to the genre since the time of Beethoven's set, have been increasingly championed."
I'm listening to his piano works right now, after spending a good bit of time with his symphonic works...mostly his 3 numbered symphonies and the 2 orchestral tone poems considered to be his 4th and 5th symphonies. I love the orchestral work, and I'll know more about his piano work soon-ish.
I'll leave you with a piece of his as I sign off.
Dodadagohvi, osda svnoi.
Ayv gvgeyui nihi, sidanelvhi.
Ayv gvgeyui nihi, adageyudi.
Yesterday I wrote about my mood issues. Oh, let's call it what it is. Yesterday I wrote about my depression and panic disorders. I wrote about the fact that I've stopped taking my anti-anxiety meds, under doctor's orders, and I'm physically fine with that. The part I didn't mention was the mood stabiliser I am on, lamictal, hasn't even come close to reaching therapeutic levels in my system. All I know, as I don't have the results of that bloodwork accessible through my patient portal thing, is that therapeutic levels are generally between 10 and 15 somethings per something, and I'm sitting right around 1. So my mood is still incredibly rough, and there are a lot of crying fits and heavy downs.
I'm not at risk of anything. I don't want to do anything to myself, or hurt myself. I just hate how I feel right now.
~~~//\\~~~
I haven't written in 2 days, which makes it sound like I'm being hard on myself. I'm really not, though. I'm fitting together in my head the penultimate scene for one story, and figuring out if I need to show or tell in the other at the point I'm at.
Lemmeth Plains got a slight adjustment to it's title, as I found The Incident at Lemmeth Plains to not only be a more evocative title, but also perhaps a better descriptor of the events. Besides, there's a story to come that will need a 'The Battle of' title more than this one, so out it went for another time and another tale. TIaLP is sitting at just shy of 7600 words, and I'm wagering we break 10K by the time we're done, between the last sequence and the epilogue that it'll need.
I did my most recent work on After the Ordeal 2 days previous to the above. And I know I wrote about the fact that the two pieces that I was unsure of being together or separate stories got resolved. This is really a massive character piece for another OC, who got about 4 or 5 lines of mention in a story I wrote over a year ago. I'm getting deep into back story for her, and thus the show or tell like I mentioned above. It's just over 8700 words, and again, over 10K by the time I'm done.
It's likely once I am done with all of the so-called 'Tessa Tales' I'll have invested more time and words on her than I did in my Madame Vastra/Jenny Flint novel In Her Absence (which finished at around 67K words...180-ish pages, so a short novel, but a novel nonetheless. Early/mid period Michael Moorcock length, as a lot of his novels were in the same range in the 70's). I believe there's likely five more stories to be written, but we will see.
The nice thing about stories in this range is that I can break up a character's arc into pieces, have each story a nice 'bite size' piece for people to read, and yet still have meat on the bones...substance and exposition, not rushed and bare, nor dense and languorous. There are stories that need that...I'm reading one and it's absolutely brilliant in its world building and plotting. And it's dense, and in a very good way. It's dense the way good fantasy novels are...not dense for the sake of being clever.
~~~//\\~~~
Tonight's listening is Alexander Scriabin.
If you're not familiar...and I would understand, as his works are often overshadowed by those of his Russian compatriots, here's some info from Wikipedia:
"Scriabin was one of the most innovative and most controversial of early modern composers. The Great Soviet Encyclopedia said of Scriabin that, "No composer has had more scorn heaped on him or greater love bestowed." Leo Tolstoy described Scriabin's music as "a sincere expression of genius." Scriabin had a major impact on the music world over time, and influenced composers such as Igor Stravinsky, Sergei Prokofiev, and Nikolai Roslavets. However Scriabin's importance in the Soviet musical scene, and internationally, drastically declined. According to his biographer, "No one was more famous during their lifetime, and few were more quickly ignored after death." Nevertheless, his musical aesthetics have been reevaluated, and his ten published sonatas for piano, which arguably provided the most consistent contribution to the genre since the time of Beethoven's set, have been increasingly championed."
I'm listening to his piano works right now, after spending a good bit of time with his symphonic works...mostly his 3 numbered symphonies and the 2 orchestral tone poems considered to be his 4th and 5th symphonies. I love the orchestral work, and I'll know more about his piano work soon-ish.
I'll leave you with a piece of his as I sign off.
Dodadagohvi, osda svnoi.
Ayv gvgeyui nihi, sidanelvhi.
Ayv gvgeyui nihi, adageyudi.
25 November 2015
Wednesday Evening, 11 PM.
It's been a very long day.
I saw one of my doctors today, who wanted to take me off one of my medications out of concern it was contributing to some memory issues I have been having. I'm OK with this, because it's been negatively impacting a lot of things. However, now I have no emergency medication for my panic and anxiety attacks. I'll just have to either crawl under a blanket, hide, and cry, or figure out coping mechanisms.
Work was perdition in extremis, with my boss there all day, micromanaging and sniping at me like a snipe hunter. I like what I do, he's just hard to deal with and one of my biggest sources of stress. I try. I truly do. But many days I just want to run home and get away from it.
I had to hit the grocery store for the free turkey. Yay free turkey, for real. But the store was packed (I expected this), the people were horrible, running into me, often on purpose, hitting me in the back with their carts. Stopping and blocking entire aisles, cutting in front of me...and I was growing so upset by this point that I just kept my mouth shut because I didn't want to lose it in the store and collapse to the floor crying. I give the cashiers a pass...they were dealing with hell, so their less than cheerful attitude I accepted.
Other personal stuff too. Stuff that hurt me, and upset me, and really was the capper of the day. From unexpected sources. Stuff I was not at all equipped to parse or process. I'm still not. And it puts tomorrow in a kind of stasis, and I may just stay in bed and hide.
I wanted to write about my writing, not a long list of negativity.
I'm sorry.
It's what I have :-(
24 November 2015
Thoughts on the new titles I picked up at my FLCBS
The Mighty Thor 1: Well, let's just dive into the mythology straight away. Dr. Jane Foster is still Thor, now with incurable cancer, and there is a war between the realms of Alfheim and Svartalfheim. Odin hasn't been seen in a long time. Foster is seen as a traitor. Freyja is imprisoned by Odin. And Loki shows up on the last page. Wow.
Ms. Marvel 1: She's an Avenger now, which is cool. And she has typical high school problems, like losing her boyfriend and stuff. Also, Jersey City is being taken over by something mysterious, and someone has appropriated her image on billboards everywhere. Neat art...very stylised. Enjoyed this one.
Red Thorn 1: VERTIGO! Loads of Scottish history, and I am blown away by the opening phases of this story. Mystery, mayhem, lots of the red, and a woman who has powers and no idea how she got them. I am way interested in where this is going...
Tuesday Afternoon...(Octet for Chamber Orchestra, Op. 18)
...it had to happen one of these days, didn't it?
Yesterday was a Monday. And that should say it all. My boss was my boss, and that should say it all. I got a dozen phone calls and 4 texts from him AFTER I got out of work. Boundaries, we have none. Or rather he has none. C'est a vie.
Sunday on the other hand had been a productive day. I got my Who review written, I got 3 of my new comics read (I will post something about them under separate cover), I got some writing done (yay writing!), and I filmed my vlog (which was hella rough). I also spent the night creating an album cover based on a comment from a friend about a pic I had taken (after filming my vlog, hence my sadness in the photo), which was a lot of fun. The cover making, not the picture taking after talking about hard things. Here, take a look:
The bottom text is 'Songs of Sorrow' in French because I love French. The song titles are all made up, except for the last one, because if I ever made an album, I would totally cover Nick Drake's River Man. And there's a hidden Easter egg in the numbers on the label, if you look closely and figure it out. I tried doing it in B&W, but it lost something majorly.
Yesterday was a Monday. And that should say it all. My boss was my boss, and that should say it all. I got a dozen phone calls and 4 texts from him AFTER I got out of work. Boundaries, we have none. Or rather he has none. C'est a vie.
Sunday on the other hand had been a productive day. I got my Who review written, I got 3 of my new comics read (I will post something about them under separate cover), I got some writing done (yay writing!), and I filmed my vlog (which was hella rough). I also spent the night creating an album cover based on a comment from a friend about a pic I had taken (after filming my vlog, hence my sadness in the photo), which was a lot of fun. The cover making, not the picture taking after talking about hard things. Here, take a look:
The bottom text is 'Songs of Sorrow' in French because I love French. The song titles are all made up, except for the last one, because if I ever made an album, I would totally cover Nick Drake's River Man. And there's a hidden Easter egg in the numbers on the label, if you look closely and figure it out. I tried doing it in B&W, but it lost something majorly.
22 November 2015
VLOG #3: 2015 Transgender Day of Remembrance
Hello everyone.
Sorry this is late, but last week was trying. So that means apologies for not being all...somethinged up.
This is my remembrance of those not with us...sisters and brothers taken by violence, or those who could no longer coexist in a world that actively hated and despised them. I will remember each of their names, and fight to make the world better so this no longer happens.
This was a particularly hard video to shoot, so apologies for the numerous fades where I cut and started recording again after gathering myself again.
I'm providing some links below to good resources to check out. Also please...no matter your age, young or old...if you are so hurt by the world that you are contemplating extreme measures, please reach out to the first info I have below. Please. I don't ever want to have to say your name.
I love you all. Ayv gvgeyui nihi.
http://www.translifeline.org
Trans Lifeline is a 501(c)3 non-profit dedicated to the well being of transgender people. We run a hotline staffed by transgender people for transgender people. Trans Lifeline volunteers are ready to respond to whatever support needs members of our community might have.
https://community.pflag.org/transgender
http://www.glaad.org/transgender/resources
http://www.hrc.org/resources/resources-for-people-with-transgender-family-members
Julie's adventures in Timewalking the Cataclysm
This weekend was Cataclysm Timewalking in WoW. I need my adges for mounts and pets! Plus a shot at that sexy sexy infinite drake mount. So I went in and here were my experiences.
Stonecore. Cheese and rice, I got this first. The worm boss (Corborus), no probs. Slabhide, no probs. Trash meading up to Ozruk, no probs. Ozruk...
Probs.
We broke ourselves against his body big time. I assume this is how it was in Cata...I never ran dungeons or heroics in Cata, so...lack of confidence did me in then. So it was neat to experience kinda what it was like.
End boss...the Twilight Cult one (Azil)...a lot of fun. Always blew her up on carries, so again, seeing the mechanics was a blast. I really enjoyed this one.
Throne of Tides. I got one shot by a lot of 1 shot mechanics on a bunch of the bosses...but I didn't care. Neither did anyone else apparently. Other than one shots, it was a smooth run. We skipped Mindbender, and still got credit for the full dungeon. I really liked this one a lot.
Grim Batol. I cringed when I saw this one. I really did. I was sure we'd be in for probs. But we cleared through pretty easily. I loved doing the drake ride for reals this time. The ettin boss was a snap. As was the orc that jumped on the dragon back. General Umbriss wasn't hard either. I died on Erudax from something, but beyond that, fun times, and not as scary as I feared.
End Time. This was my first today. We got Emerald/Azure/Bronze, which makes us pretty lucky. No probs with Emerald, either with trash or Tyrande. Azure was a different story, as we had major issues with the trash...but Jaina dropped very easily. Dodged every ice thing, thank you very much.
Which left Murozond, and I was worried how it would go. Fortunately we had a good time turner, and we took him down with ease.
Stonecore (again). This run is what I feared the first time. Tank died multiple times on one shot mechanic on Corborus. Tank does on crystal barrage on Slabhide. Tank died to shatter on Ozruk. Only boss he didn't die on was High Priestess Azil...but I did, being tossed right into a gravity well and dying instantly.
15 bosses, no mount. At least it's a chance on each boss.
Stonecore. Cheese and rice, I got this first. The worm boss (Corborus), no probs. Slabhide, no probs. Trash meading up to Ozruk, no probs. Ozruk...
Probs.
We broke ourselves against his body big time. I assume this is how it was in Cata...I never ran dungeons or heroics in Cata, so...lack of confidence did me in then. So it was neat to experience kinda what it was like.
End boss...the Twilight Cult one (Azil)...a lot of fun. Always blew her up on carries, so again, seeing the mechanics was a blast. I really enjoyed this one.
Throne of Tides. I got one shot by a lot of 1 shot mechanics on a bunch of the bosses...but I didn't care. Neither did anyone else apparently. Other than one shots, it was a smooth run. We skipped Mindbender, and still got credit for the full dungeon. I really liked this one a lot.
Grim Batol. I cringed when I saw this one. I really did. I was sure we'd be in for probs. But we cleared through pretty easily. I loved doing the drake ride for reals this time. The ettin boss was a snap. As was the orc that jumped on the dragon back. General Umbriss wasn't hard either. I died on Erudax from something, but beyond that, fun times, and not as scary as I feared.
End Time. This was my first today. We got Emerald/Azure/Bronze, which makes us pretty lucky. No probs with Emerald, either with trash or Tyrande. Azure was a different story, as we had major issues with the trash...but Jaina dropped very easily. Dodged every ice thing, thank you very much.
Which left Murozond, and I was worried how it would go. Fortunately we had a good time turner, and we took him down with ease.
 |
| Enraged Ozruk! And Julie is (just) topping meters! |
Stonecore (again). This run is what I feared the first time. Tank died multiple times on one shot mechanic on Corborus. Tank does on crystal barrage on Slabhide. Tank died to shatter on Ozruk. Only boss he didn't die on was High Priestess Azil...but I did, being tossed right into a gravity well and dying instantly.
15 bosses, no mount. At least it's a chance on each boss.
 |
| Soon my lovely...soon you'll be mine. How I've waited for an Infinite Drake mount... |
I was lost a long time ago. She was saving you...Face the Raven, a review (Series 9 Episode 10)
Hello and welcome to my weekly review of the newest Doctor Who episode. This my 10th of the series, and there are only 2 left. This, the 9th series, has flown by, and while I should do an overview post at the end, I'll just say that for the most part, I've found this series to be a very strong one.
It has also been, for me, a very grimdark series, and this is coming from someone who loves the Hinchcliffe and later Cartmel eras. People die and don't come back. The episodes are dark, both in actual content and in lighting. The doctor has been placed in a lot of untenable situations and places, including the location of his greatest defeats, and he has lost, thus disproving the lie that the Doctor always wins.
And while Live + 5 shows the ratings haven't been impacted (let's face it, very little is appointment TV anymore), and while I didn't mind the tone (with some exceptions), I think at times this series has been much like a Blizzard reaction to things...as in 'They didn't care for the structure or tone of Series 8...RADICAL CHANGE!
So, let's talk about it, now that I have a night to brood.
Julie stayed spoiler free this week, whilst her mum did not. So she was silent through a lot of the episode, while it was all new for me. I'll just lay that out as preface.
We start out with Clara and the Doctor running back into the TARDIS from some brilliant light. Clara of course is laughing like a nutter, while the Doctor is more reserved. This has been a theme all year...Clara becoming more Doctor like, with the actual Doctor trying to rein her in and tell her that he has a duty of care toward her, something she rejects fully. She's proud of what she has become, and you know what they say.
21 November 2015
ARCHIVE: some brief thoughts about The Magician's Apprentice
(NB: as I have been doing, On Whoday I post one of my archive reviews I didn't post during the series here because this blog didn't exist. I do believe that this finishes up all of S9 to date here.
Enjoy.)
What the hell are you up to now?...some brief thoughts about The Magician's Apprentice
September 20, 2015 at 11:43am
Welcome back, after nearly a year, to my weekly brief thoughts about Doctor Who. I'll be with you for the next 12 weeks talking about each new episode in sequence, in varying formats. This week I did the insta-reaction thing, 2 viewings on.
I do want to start by setting some of the guidelines for things:
1) Spoileriffic, so if you haven't watched, please don't read :-)
2) That's really about it.
Before I begin, I want to comment on two things. I watched last night on BBC-A and this morning on my yarred HD copy. Last night's audio was HORRIFIC. I don't know if it was a 5.1 mix that didn't get downstepped to stereo properly, but a good chunk of the time the dialogue was unhearable. I had no issues with the HD copy. Secondly, there were some definite downgrades on the special effects. The stopped planes matte work was...not good. The ground swallowing up the soldier was very rough around the edges. And the Planet Skaro appearing as it did was pretty naff. On one hand it felt like a 70's episode, on the other hand it felt like a 70's episode.
That said, Capaldi was excellent, I'm growing to like Missy, Clara didn't have a whole lot to do and thus was pretty OK, and I am super glad they got Julian Bleach to come back as Davros. Second best Davros ever, after Michael Wisher.
And now...commentary!
1) We open on a cloudy field
2) Is...is that a biplane?
3) with...lasers?
4) Soldiers with bow and arrow? And gas masks?
5) Kid, you're running the wrong way.
6) Seriously...you're running the wrong way.
7) I do not trust him.
8) And wow, moving ground. Kinda a naff effect, but spooky.
9) Oh, hand mine, not land mine.
10) And that effect was even less good.
11) But the hands coming out of the ground...proper spooky.
12) Mist definitely helps. Why is it so misty...HOLY FUCK EYES.
13) Enter stage left sonic screwdriver.
14) Hello Doctor!
Enjoy.)
What the hell are you up to now?...some brief thoughts about The Magician's Apprentice
September 20, 2015 at 11:43am
Welcome back, after nearly a year, to my weekly brief thoughts about Doctor Who. I'll be with you for the next 12 weeks talking about each new episode in sequence, in varying formats. This week I did the insta-reaction thing, 2 viewings on.
I do want to start by setting some of the guidelines for things:
1) Spoileriffic, so if you haven't watched, please don't read :-)
2) That's really about it.
Before I begin, I want to comment on two things. I watched last night on BBC-A and this morning on my yarred HD copy. Last night's audio was HORRIFIC. I don't know if it was a 5.1 mix that didn't get downstepped to stereo properly, but a good chunk of the time the dialogue was unhearable. I had no issues with the HD copy. Secondly, there were some definite downgrades on the special effects. The stopped planes matte work was...not good. The ground swallowing up the soldier was very rough around the edges. And the Planet Skaro appearing as it did was pretty naff. On one hand it felt like a 70's episode, on the other hand it felt like a 70's episode.
That said, Capaldi was excellent, I'm growing to like Missy, Clara didn't have a whole lot to do and thus was pretty OK, and I am super glad they got Julian Bleach to come back as Davros. Second best Davros ever, after Michael Wisher.
And now...commentary!
1) We open on a cloudy field
2) Is...is that a biplane?
3) with...lasers?
4) Soldiers with bow and arrow? And gas masks?
5) Kid, you're running the wrong way.
6) Seriously...you're running the wrong way.
7) I do not trust him.
8) And wow, moving ground. Kinda a naff effect, but spooky.
9) Oh, hand mine, not land mine.
10) And that effect was even less good.
11) But the hands coming out of the ground...proper spooky.
12) Mist definitely helps. Why is it so misty...HOLY FUCK EYES.
13) Enter stage left sonic screwdriver.
14) Hello Doctor!
20 November 2015
Transgender Day of Remembrance
I have not forgotten.
I can never forget.
I would not allow myself to.
I just have something planned for it, and for myself.
And for you.
So please, if you can wait till Sunday, I would be very appreciative.
Thank you...and to my brothers and sisters no longer with us...you are not forgotten. I will remember each of your names and carry you with me always.
Until this no longer happens.
Until this is no longer necessary.
Until...
I can never forget.
I would not allow myself to.
I just have something planned for it, and for myself.
And for you.
So please, if you can wait till Sunday, I would be very appreciative.
Thank you...and to my brothers and sisters no longer with us...you are not forgotten. I will remember each of your names and carry you with me always.
Until this no longer happens.
Until this is no longer necessary.
Until...
FLCBS haul 20 November 2015
Today's comics haul...
Ms. Marvel #1. I missed the first run, before the recent reboot. So I'm starting here. I know how much reboots suck, but for me, it allows a recent returnee to start with a new storyline and feel like I' at the beginning.
Rat Queens 13: More Queeny goodness :-)
Red Thorn 1: My first Vertigo book in forever.
"On the rain-soaked streets of Glasgow, a girl whose drawings somehow come to life has just stumbled across her one true love. And thousands of miles below those streets, an ancient demi-god plots his escape from the prison where he’s been held for nearly two thousand years. Evil forces are at play and no one is safe as the legends of Scottish mythology collide with the modern world. Fans of FABLES and THE SANDMAN won’t want to miss this riveting dark fantasy epic!'
That was enough for me.
The Mighty Thor #1. Same story as above. This time it's harder hitting for me personally, as our Thor, Dr. Jane Foster, is also dying of cancer. So yeah...hits home.
More as I get to and through them.
Friday Morning 10:05 AM
I didn't write or post anything yesterday because I couldn't think of anything of significance to contribute. Getting out of work at 7:15 and getting home at 8 PM didn't help; I didn't get in any exercise because that'd push me to 9 PM, and as I've been trying to listen to my doctors and get more sleep, it'd essentially be a wasted day.
So here I am. It's Friday morning. I'm at work. And I'm still not sure what to write.
I spent part of the day yesterday looking for sun lamps to try and stave off the creeping seasonal stuff I'm feeling. It seems like it gets stronger every year, and I'm not sure with everything else going on how much I can bear it this year.
Today is my weekly trip to the FLCBS, where I have at least
Ms. Marvel 1
Rat Queens 13
Possibly more, and I need to ask if they can get the Lady Mechanika graphic novel for me.
I also have to stop at the rare book store for my mum to pick up a clean copy of the biography written about her great great (my great x 3) grandfather. This is a story for another time.
And here I am once more...
If it's quiet I'll try to write. If not I'll deal with what comes.
All while feeling Seasonal Affective Disorder'c clutches tightening...
So here I am. It's Friday morning. I'm at work. And I'm still not sure what to write.
I spent part of the day yesterday looking for sun lamps to try and stave off the creeping seasonal stuff I'm feeling. It seems like it gets stronger every year, and I'm not sure with everything else going on how much I can bear it this year.
Today is my weekly trip to the FLCBS, where I have at least
Ms. Marvel 1
Rat Queens 13
Possibly more, and I need to ask if they can get the Lady Mechanika graphic novel for me.
I also have to stop at the rare book store for my mum to pick up a clean copy of the biography written about her great great (my great x 3) grandfather. This is a story for another time.
And here I am once more...
If it's quiet I'll try to write. If not I'll deal with what comes.
All while feeling Seasonal Affective Disorder'c clutches tightening...
18 November 2015
On being a femme tomboy transgirl... (Op. 17)
I'm old.
And by that I don't mean that I'm old, but I'm in that generation after babyboomers and before whatever the generation now is. I'm a Gen X'er. I remember my family's first colour TV, and I grew up on Atari 2600 and 5200 games. And Colecovision. And Intellivision. I was 4 when the 1st/4th Star Wars movie came out.
I was born the same year as the following albums:
Dark Side of the Moon. Brain Salad Surgery. Tales from Topographic Oceans. Selling England by the Pound. Houses of the Holy. Greetings from Asbury Park NJ. Raw Power. Tyranny and Mutation. Larks Tongues in Aspic. Aladdin Sane. A Passion Play. Goat's Head Soup. Quadrophenia.
So yeah.
Old.
And I...oh, how to put this...I have a certain image of myself as a trans individual, and specifically as a trans female. There are things I love. I love makeup, but generally very subtle. I love doing my nails. I love certain looks...skinny jeans or leggings and boots, or trainers with slouchy socks. Overlong sweaters. If I had any skirts I'd wear them on occasion, and the same goes with dresses...I have a folder of pictures of stuff I like or appeals to me. But I don't feel I HAVE to wear a dress or a skirt to dress or present female, to prove myself female.. My skinny jeans, knee boots and pink sweatshirt should be enough to realise that, especially if I'm rocking the lipstick and eyeshadow and my wig, and I'm the 'transgirl on the go' I humourously label myself as.
I have issues with support groups, on two levels. In the real world, I generally feel that intersectional LGBTQIA groups cheerfully ignore the TQIA part in favour of the LGB part. And that's their prerogative, though it makes me feel that I am being consciously or unconsciously marginalised. On line, the problem is different but just as all pervasive; without much in the way of exception, the participants are younger (oh to have started this younger), and doing the dresses and side poses and the duck lips and...I know it's generational. Most of the older trans women I know, and remember, the plural of anecdote is not data, are hardcore into dressing really femme. And most of the younger generation I know are the same...except for the GQs, who do a lovely job fucking with the binary.
I'm not GQ. I fuck with the binary in that I'm switching poles, but I'm still going to be mostly at one pole of the spectrum.
And it's the mostly that is the issue.
I'm OK with not fitting in with either generation. Genuinely. I like dresses and skirts, and makeup and shoes, and I'll wear them. When I feel like it. When the need is there. When it's the right occasion.
But I jokingly tell people I'm going to be the femme-est tomboy they ever knew, and that's kinda true too. I love ripped jeans and combat boots and t-shirts and running in the woods or rock jumping at Ringing Rock park, and that's me too.
And the later shouldn't define my womanhood, or show that I'm lacking, just as my not always wanting to wear dresses and sweaters and heels should define me as not feminine. Which, I guess, moves me off the pole a little bit to some, but for me, just means that I am my own unique person with my own unique likes and stuff. I'm not going to show up at the Metropolitan Opera in jeans and chucks...you can be damned sure I'm gonna turn out as sophisticated as I can possible work. But when I am at work, or just going to the grocery store, I don't need to do that. I don't want to feel I need to do that.
And I don't know how this will go over with any therapist I see moving forward. Expectation, prison, blah blah blah...but I half expect that when they tell me that I have to present and live full time (which, let's face it, outside of the wig I pretty much do all the time anymore, even if it's femme tomboy), and I'm not in dresses or skirts every day, that I won't pass the audition.
This is jumping ahead, I know...but I'm reaching there soon. And I have to think of these things.
And by that I don't mean that I'm old, but I'm in that generation after babyboomers and before whatever the generation now is. I'm a Gen X'er. I remember my family's first colour TV, and I grew up on Atari 2600 and 5200 games. And Colecovision. And Intellivision. I was 4 when the 1st/4th Star Wars movie came out.
I was born the same year as the following albums:
Dark Side of the Moon. Brain Salad Surgery. Tales from Topographic Oceans. Selling England by the Pound. Houses of the Holy. Greetings from Asbury Park NJ. Raw Power. Tyranny and Mutation. Larks Tongues in Aspic. Aladdin Sane. A Passion Play. Goat's Head Soup. Quadrophenia.
So yeah.
Old.
And I...oh, how to put this...I have a certain image of myself as a trans individual, and specifically as a trans female. There are things I love. I love makeup, but generally very subtle. I love doing my nails. I love certain looks...skinny jeans or leggings and boots, or trainers with slouchy socks. Overlong sweaters. If I had any skirts I'd wear them on occasion, and the same goes with dresses...I have a folder of pictures of stuff I like or appeals to me. But I don't feel I HAVE to wear a dress or a skirt to dress or present female, to prove myself female.. My skinny jeans, knee boots and pink sweatshirt should be enough to realise that, especially if I'm rocking the lipstick and eyeshadow and my wig, and I'm the 'transgirl on the go' I humourously label myself as.
I have issues with support groups, on two levels. In the real world, I generally feel that intersectional LGBTQIA groups cheerfully ignore the TQIA part in favour of the LGB part. And that's their prerogative, though it makes me feel that I am being consciously or unconsciously marginalised. On line, the problem is different but just as all pervasive; without much in the way of exception, the participants are younger (oh to have started this younger), and doing the dresses and side poses and the duck lips and...I know it's generational. Most of the older trans women I know, and remember, the plural of anecdote is not data, are hardcore into dressing really femme. And most of the younger generation I know are the same...except for the GQs, who do a lovely job fucking with the binary.
I'm not GQ. I fuck with the binary in that I'm switching poles, but I'm still going to be mostly at one pole of the spectrum.
And it's the mostly that is the issue.
I'm OK with not fitting in with either generation. Genuinely. I like dresses and skirts, and makeup and shoes, and I'll wear them. When I feel like it. When the need is there. When it's the right occasion.
But I jokingly tell people I'm going to be the femme-est tomboy they ever knew, and that's kinda true too. I love ripped jeans and combat boots and t-shirts and running in the woods or rock jumping at Ringing Rock park, and that's me too.
And the later shouldn't define my womanhood, or show that I'm lacking, just as my not always wanting to wear dresses and sweaters and heels should define me as not feminine. Which, I guess, moves me off the pole a little bit to some, but for me, just means that I am my own unique person with my own unique likes and stuff. I'm not going to show up at the Metropolitan Opera in jeans and chucks...you can be damned sure I'm gonna turn out as sophisticated as I can possible work. But when I am at work, or just going to the grocery store, I don't need to do that. I don't want to feel I need to do that.
And I don't know how this will go over with any therapist I see moving forward. Expectation, prison, blah blah blah...but I half expect that when they tell me that I have to present and live full time (which, let's face it, outside of the wig I pretty much do all the time anymore, even if it's femme tomboy), and I'm not in dresses or skirts every day, that I won't pass the audition.
This is jumping ahead, I know...but I'm reaching there soon. And I have to think of these things.
Astronomy: It's time for the Leonid Meteor Shower
Tonight the Leonid Meteor Shower reaches it's peak.
Historically, the Leonids are some of the most impressive meteors and one of the most mind-blowing shower experiences there is. Every 33 years, the shower becomes a storm as we pass through the path of the debris at its heaviest point, and rates of up to 1000 per hour have been seen.
The Leonid meteor shower is so named because its radiant point, from where the meteors seem to fan out, is located within the constellation of Leo (the Lion), from the backward-question-mark pattern of stars known as "The Sickle."
The meteors are spawned by Comet Tempel-Tuttle, which sweeps through the inner solar system every 33.3 years. Each time the comet passes closest to the sun, it leaves a "river of rubble" in its wake — a dense trail of dusty debris. A meteor storm becomes possible when Earth scores a direct hit on a fresh dust trail ejected by the comet over the past couple of centuries.
The "lion's share" (no pun intended) of comet dust can be found just behind and just ahead of Tempel-Tuttle. The comet last cruised through the inner solar system in 1998; that's why spectacular meteor showers were seen in 1999, 2001 and 2002, with declining numbers thereafter.
Because the peak of this shower is around 10 PM, it doesn't require losing a night's sleep before a work day to view. Here's what you'll need:
1) NO BINOCULARS OR SCOPE! Just your eyes!
2) A nice dark site away from the lights of a city.
3) A lounging or reclining lawn chair.
4) Warm clothes and a blanket. You won't be moving, so you'll get cold quickly.
5) Hot beverages! Preferable not something with caffeine, as that will narrow your pupils and let less light in.
6) Maybe some music to set the soundtrack.
This year, you can expect 10 to 20 meteors per hour. If you have a good SLR camera and tripod, consider setting it up and doing timed exposures pointed toward the radiant. If you have a small scope with a motor mount, you probably have a camera mount for it, so set it up and you can track the radiant all night and get some awesome photos.
Have fun!
(Some information from space.com. Star chart courtesy Starry Night software.)
Historically, the Leonids are some of the most impressive meteors and one of the most mind-blowing shower experiences there is. Every 33 years, the shower becomes a storm as we pass through the path of the debris at its heaviest point, and rates of up to 1000 per hour have been seen.
The Leonid meteor shower is so named because its radiant point, from where the meteors seem to fan out, is located within the constellation of Leo (the Lion), from the backward-question-mark pattern of stars known as "The Sickle."
The meteors are spawned by Comet Tempel-Tuttle, which sweeps through the inner solar system every 33.3 years. Each time the comet passes closest to the sun, it leaves a "river of rubble" in its wake — a dense trail of dusty debris. A meteor storm becomes possible when Earth scores a direct hit on a fresh dust trail ejected by the comet over the past couple of centuries.
The "lion's share" (no pun intended) of comet dust can be found just behind and just ahead of Tempel-Tuttle. The comet last cruised through the inner solar system in 1998; that's why spectacular meteor showers were seen in 1999, 2001 and 2002, with declining numbers thereafter.
Because the peak of this shower is around 10 PM, it doesn't require losing a night's sleep before a work day to view. Here's what you'll need:
1) NO BINOCULARS OR SCOPE! Just your eyes!
2) A nice dark site away from the lights of a city.
3) A lounging or reclining lawn chair.
4) Warm clothes and a blanket. You won't be moving, so you'll get cold quickly.
5) Hot beverages! Preferable not something with caffeine, as that will narrow your pupils and let less light in.
6) Maybe some music to set the soundtrack.
This year, you can expect 10 to 20 meteors per hour. If you have a good SLR camera and tripod, consider setting it up and doing timed exposures pointed toward the radiant. If you have a small scope with a motor mount, you probably have a camera mount for it, so set it up and you can track the radiant all night and get some awesome photos.
Have fun!
(Some information from space.com. Star chart courtesy Starry Night software.)
17 November 2015
VLOG: Facebook Blackout II (11/26 - 12/01, 2015)
Hello everyone, and welcome to my second vlog. Today I'm talking about Facebook Blackout II, an action aimed at negatively impacting ad revenue on Facebook through...well, watch the video and not only learn more, but learn how you can take part.
As hinted at, while I've been planning on posting these weekly, I have a feeling I'll have another video for you before this coming weekend is finished so watch this space.
Or...
Check out my videos here.
Tuesday morning,11:55 AM
My morning so far:
Get up too early.
Do my nails.
Try to find the new lyrics to 21 CSM.
Fail.
Get laundry going.
Hot shower.
Really hot shower.
Get a load of gunk out of my nose from the heat and steam.
Fix one nail.
Now:
Relaxing.
Waiting for laundry.
maybe try to write a little, but the tank's kinda empty at the moment, so it may be a day or so.
Later:
Therapy
Video my vlog. From a remote location! Ooooo, feel the excitement!
Assemble and post.
Get up too early.
Do my nails.
Try to find the new lyrics to 21 CSM.
Fail.
Get laundry going.
Hot shower.
Really hot shower.
Get a load of gunk out of my nose from the heat and steam.
Fix one nail.
Now:
Relaxing.
Waiting for laundry.
maybe try to write a little, but the tank's kinda empty at the moment, so it may be a day or so.
Later:
Therapy
Video my vlog. From a remote location! Ooooo, feel the excitement!
Assemble and post.
16 November 2015
Stuff. And shenanigans.
I have been struggling with writing the past week or so, which may sound funny considering that a week and a half ago I was talking about the stories I've been working on. But it's true. I've been struggling. It's not for want of desire...I sorely want to write these stories. My attention has been scattered, my mind a mess, and it's just been so damned hard.
I was finally able to sit down and keep myself together to get some writing done, and added around 1300 words to After the Ordeal. I'm getting a sense now of how long this story is going to be now, and I know where it fits in the timeline for the characters in question. It's normal, I guess, to kind of know character's personal arcs before you write them...it's different with pure fanfic, because you can wave a few magic wands to make things work:
Missing scene
Interstitial between stories
Missing adventure
Alternate universe
The thing is, the vast majority of the stories I'm cobbling together are not fanfic, even if they exist in an already created fictional universe. So while there are certain things I do need to be aware of, I'm mostly flying blind...and discovering that the characters are living their own lives. And I'm responsible for them. This is both exciting and terrifying.
I was finally able to sit down and keep myself together to get some writing done, and added around 1300 words to After the Ordeal. I'm getting a sense now of how long this story is going to be now, and I know where it fits in the timeline for the characters in question. It's normal, I guess, to kind of know character's personal arcs before you write them...it's different with pure fanfic, because you can wave a few magic wands to make things work:
Missing scene
Interstitial between stories
Missing adventure
Alternate universe
The thing is, the vast majority of the stories I'm cobbling together are not fanfic, even if they exist in an already created fictional universe. So while there are certain things I do need to be aware of, I'm mostly flying blind...and discovering that the characters are living their own lives. And I'm responsible for them. This is both exciting and terrifying.
~~~~~//\\~~~~~
See, here's the thing...
I am not one to humblebrag. I'm not one to brag, period. People yell at me because I self-efface all the time. And when I say all the time, I mean I think I do it in my sleep too.
But I can say some nice things about myself.
I think I'm a nice person.
I try to be polite whenever possible.
I'm accepting of everyone.
I'm passionate about things that affect or effect me.
Here's the thing. I like sharing things that people may not know or know about...my astronomy stuff on occasion, my music posts on occasion, et cetera. Obviously I share a lot about myself here...my feelings, my journey, all that. That doesn't necessarily mean that I am or should be someone's sole education on what it is to be trans. My experience is my own, and is unique. I will call you out if you misgender someone (or me), I will call you out if you fetishise trans women or men, I will call you out if you use slurs or are transphobic. That doesn't mean that I have to spend more than the time to give you a few links to good reputable websites with good, reputable information about being trans to educate you. It's not my job. It's not my obligation. I share here what I share because I want to, for me as much as for you.
I should not have to explain the difference between a transvestite and a trans man or woman.
I should not have to explain why orientation has nothing to do with identity.
There's a tool for that, and it's called Google.
I want people to be educated...because the more they know maybe the less they'll hate and hurt and kill us...but I a one person, and I don't have the energy to do more than talk about myself and my opinions, let alone talk about the entire trans experience. I can't speak for a transman any better than he can speak for me. We're different, and resplendent in that divergence.
TL; DR: You can ask, but don't get offended if I say 'Google it.'
Please note, family exemptions may apply. See your local representative for details to see if you qualify.
Please note, family exemptions may apply. See your local representative for details to see if you qualify.
~~~~~//\\~~~~~
And now it's well past 7, and I need to get a workout in before it gets too late, with the sound of my nephew and/or dog running from room to room above me like a heard of stampeding wildebeest.
Osda svnoi, sidanelvhi.
Is This the World We Created...? (Op. 16)
Every time I go to write something for my blog, I stop
because I keep coming back to the same subject.
I know that means I should write about it, but it's been difficult to
find the correct words for it. I'm going
to resort to just letting it flow, and being emotional where it happens,
because by now you know that I'm an emotional person and I cannot apologise for
that.
On Saturday a coordinated series of attacks by Daesh killed
over 100 people in France . This is a tragedy. Did you know the day before that 40 people
were killed in Beirut
by suicide bombers?
Did you know Boko Haram has near daily attacks in Nigeria ,
killing close to 2000 people this year and kidnapping hundreds?
Did you know that there've been dozens of terror attacks in Iraq , resulting
in the deaths of hundreds?
How about Gaza ?
The Sinai Peninsula ?
The Ukraine ?
The Philippines ?
How about the constant flow of black Americans murdered by
the police, sometimes seeming like one a day.
In the vast majority of cases, the officers in question will never be
brought to justice.
Dylann Roof in Charleston ?
The incident in Missouri
at the college, with the subsequent terrorism against minorities?
The 500+ (as many as 1000) Indigenous women who have gone
missing in Canada ?
The First People having the highest rate of being killed by
police of any racial group in America ?
How many of these have you heard about?
I'm guessing not as many as you'd think. And I'll admit I didn't know about some of
these, and I try to consider myself well read and well informed. I read up on this last night and...it was a
lot of swallow.
I am on Facebook, and I did not change my user pic like many
did. Several people were upset that FB
did not offer them a Lebanon
option for the suicide bombings, so I made pix for them. It's a tiny thing, but it felt like I was
doing something. Other people have been
doing the same thing, changing their pix to have Kenyan overlays, or medicine
wheel overlays, or what have you. And I
think it's awesome...but it's something FB should do. You can't pick and choose.
But you see, FB has a problem.
FB says this in their Community Standards:
"Hate Speech
Facebook removes hate speech, which includes content that directly attacks people based on their:
"Hate Speech
Facebook removes hate speech, which includes content that directly attacks people based on their:
- Race,
- Ethnicity,
- National origin,
- Religious affiliation,
- Sexual orientation,
- Sex, gender, or gender identity, or
- Serious disabilities or diseases.
Organizations and people dedicated to promoting hatred against these protected groups are not allowed a presence on Facebook. As with all of our standards, we rely on our community to report this content to us."
Except they don't.
Oh, they have provisions for things like humour (as if hate
speech is humourous). In the end, countless
hundreds if not thousands of pages with hate speech against black, Latino, Middle
Eastern, Indian, First nation, Asian, LGBTQIA and other minorities are allowed
to stand despite being reported time and time again. Yet one negative thing is said against someone who is white, and the hammer comes down...for as much as 30 days.
I have more to say about this, and I will be saying it in my
vlog tomorrow.
So please, stay tuned.
15 November 2015
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course...A review of Sleep No More (S9E09 Doctor Who)
Good morning, and welcome to our weekly Sunday Morning review of the newest Doctor Who episode. It's funny...I've started calling comic books episodes for some reason, and I almost called this an issue. Wires in my head are certainly askew.
As you know, I watch on Saturday night for ratings (and because it's fun to watch with mum, whom we label a mostly-We as she watched back in the day and is catching up now...actually looks forward to the show on Saturday nights, so I think I've got her mostly converted!), and then I watch again Sunday morning in HD so I can hear more clearly, verify opinions, and get this written. It is by nature spoilerific, so there's that. If you haven't watched, I don't recommend reading till you have. I'm not responsible for spoilers and your broken heart.
Let's go.
We've had 8 very good to excellent episodes in a row. While not a Dalek fan, the opening 2 parter was some of the best Dalek writing in 5 years. The Lake 2 parter was part excellent, part heartbreaking, and all cool. Our first two episodes with Maisie Williams were quite enjoyable as well, showing the true 'gift' of immortality. And the Zygon double shot...I swear the cheese and rice, all these conservative assholes need to watch this Ludovico Treatment style and maybe they'd learn something.
This brings us to our first standalone episodes of the series, Sleep no More. It's a strange title, and well, its obvious why with the episode, but the wording is weird. Until the Doctor reveals it...
MACBETH
Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep”—the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.
LADY MACBETH
What do you mean?
MACBETH
Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house.
“Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more.”
This Doctor...fan of Beethoven and Shakespeare. I love him more and more every week.
(And as a side note? For the love of something worth loving, Shakespeare is NOT difficult. You do not need it translated to modern English...I'll stop the world and melt with you...really. It's fine, and beautiful, and without the cadence it just becomes covered in normal goop and the truth struggles to shine through. Sad Julie is sad.)
Our antagonist is Gagan Rassmussen, the lead researcher on the Le Verrier Space Station in orbit around Neptune sometime in the 38th century. He urges people not to watch the video, but then explains how the video came to be. He also introduces our cast of characters...Nagata, Chopra, Deep-Ando, and 474. Nagata's our CO, Chopra's the militant political member of the rescue party who is against something called Morpheus, Deep-Ando is the joker of the group, and 474 is a clone bred Grunt...low intelligence, loads of muscle. 474 is also played by our first ever trans actress (Bethany Black) to appear in Doctor Who, which obviously elicited a cheer for me (and tears later, about which more later).
They've been sent to find out why the base fell silent 24 hours ago. And as they search the base, they finally do find two people...stress and engineering investigators named Clara Oswald and the Doctor. They are conscripted into the party, and the fun begins.
Through a series of 'found' footage (apparently shot from helmet cams that aren't really there...I'm not sure, but I think I got that right...because the truth is far more sinister) and Doom/Quake style first person footage, we get a real sense of the place. It's grotty, even for being shut down for a day. And in a laboratory, where our group (save Deep-Ando) is chased by one of the weirdest and most id-disturbing monsters I've seen in Who, we find a series of pods. Clara is pulled into one and gets to experience the Morpheus effect personally.
What Morpheus does is sends an electronic signal to the brain to mimic the effects for a full 8 hours sleep. In this new works, where the earth has been affected by The Great Catastrophe, India and Japan have merged under one massive political powerhouse, profit and efficiency are everything, and Morpheus gives that edge.
In the Doctor's words to Rasmussen, 'Congratulations. You've revolutionised the labour market. You've overcome nature. You've also created an abomination.
In a perfect example of calling things out (where the last two weeks were so subtle), Rassmussen's dressed in a weird black suit and his hair is all Zorg or vague Hitler comb over. Se we know he's the bad guy even if the monsters seem to be the bad guy. It's an interesting, if ham-fisted, element, and it will pay off some near the end of the episode.
The rest of the episode is a combination of The Running Game and a murder mystery, with a 'what are the monsters really' on top? Deep-Ando is eaten by the monsters, which have been called Sandmen by Clara first, then the Doctor. The Sandmen are created by the dust in the corner of your eyes, conglomerating like a colony until they reach sentience and bipedal form. Sleep is the only thing that keeps them from forming, so Rasmussen's defeat of sleep has caused these creatures to evolve.
Lovely guy.
474 bravely presses through a wall of fire to rescue Chopra, and dies/gets eaten in the process, after having one last chance to tell Chopra he's pretty in her broken, low intelligence way (and that kicked me in the gut, and is doing so as I type this). She then charges the sandmen to give Chopra time to escape, but Chopra is trapped by the Sandmen and is eaten even as he plans to blow up the station to stop the contagion.
Clara is infected as a result of her 5 minute stay in a chamber, and the Doctor promises to save her life. Nagata is infected because she's an avid user. The Doctor promises to save her. And they finally catch Rasmussen in what looks like an escape ship with one bio-pod in it, which contains patient Zero...the first Morpheus client, awake for 5 years, and very angry when he comes out of his pod. Rasmussen is far from lucid explaining how the Sandmen convinced him that they were superior and needed food...they saved him in order to be brought to Titan (one of the moons of Neptune) to feed and then spread. The Doctor, as is his wont, tries to reason with him; Nagata reasons with her gun.
With the King of all Sandmen chasing them, the only thing for it is to run to the TARDIS, which it turns out is surrounded by Sandmen. The Doctor shuts down the grav shields, which cause the Sandmen to decay, and the three survivors make a break for it.
In a sort of epilogue Rasmussen reveals all of this was his plan, and hopes the viewers enjoyed his little video. He then reveals his true plot...the video has been encoded with the Morpheus signal, so by watching it, the infection spreads to anyone who watches it. He then begins to shift, revealing that he is also a Sandman, and crumbles before our eyes as the grav shields fail.
Well.
As I fell asleep last night, I thought to myself that this was probably the Ghost Light of the series...the episode that was impenetrable and required additional viewings to tease out the meaning. I don't feel that way this morning, and that's why I wait 24 hours before writing, so I can parse everything. Here are some pros and cons:
PRO
1) The monsters were weird and neatly designed
2) The idea of sleep as a life preserver, literally, is a good one
3) Another political statement about the wrongness of a purely profit and efficiency driven system is appropriately leftist
4) I cared about 474, hated seeing her bullied, and liked her heroic arc at the end
CON
1) What happened to the ship?
2) What happened to Clara?
3) What happened to Nagata?
4) Did that broadcast get broadcast?
5) What happened to Triton?
6) Is everything we see or seem, but a dream within a dream?
And then I look at the author.
Mark Gatiss.
Mark Mark Mark...you've done such good work. You have. The Crimson Horror, Cold War, Night Horrors, The Unquiet Dead...some very good to excellent episodes. But we get to blame you for The Idiot's Lantern and Victory of the Daleks and Robots of Sherwood, and now this one. A .500 average would not only get you in to Cooperstown, it'd label you the greatest hitter of all time in baseball. In TV writing, it is...less than average. It's a shame, because I wasn't paying attention to the opening credits and had I realised it was a Gatiss episode, my expectations would have been tempered. At one time I wanted him to be head writer after Moffat left the position...anymore I am less than sure.
Is this the setup for Clara's exit and possible death?
I don't know.
I know we have 3 eps left, and next week features Maisie Williams again, as well as our buddy Riggsy from last year's Flatline. I know after that we have the series finale 2 parter. Ad I hope (even though hope is expectation and expectation is a prison) that this was a momentary dip and we rise back up again. While Sleep No More was dark like the rest of the series, and I can definitely see it being terrifying to young kids (and heard as much last night), in the end, this episode disappointed.
As you know, I watch on Saturday night for ratings (and because it's fun to watch with mum, whom we label a mostly-We as she watched back in the day and is catching up now...actually looks forward to the show on Saturday nights, so I think I've got her mostly converted!), and then I watch again Sunday morning in HD so I can hear more clearly, verify opinions, and get this written. It is by nature spoilerific, so there's that. If you haven't watched, I don't recommend reading till you have. I'm not responsible for spoilers and your broken heart.
Let's go.
 |
| Oh wow...special credits screen for this episode that fits the theme. Very cool. Didn't see that coming. |
We've had 8 very good to excellent episodes in a row. While not a Dalek fan, the opening 2 parter was some of the best Dalek writing in 5 years. The Lake 2 parter was part excellent, part heartbreaking, and all cool. Our first two episodes with Maisie Williams were quite enjoyable as well, showing the true 'gift' of immortality. And the Zygon double shot...I swear the cheese and rice, all these conservative assholes need to watch this Ludovico Treatment style and maybe they'd learn something.
This brings us to our first standalone episodes of the series, Sleep no More. It's a strange title, and well, its obvious why with the episode, but the wording is weird. Until the Doctor reveals it...
MACBETH
Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep”—the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.
LADY MACBETH
What do you mean?
MACBETH
Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house.
“Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more.”
This Doctor...fan of Beethoven and Shakespeare. I love him more and more every week.
(And as a side note? For the love of something worth loving, Shakespeare is NOT difficult. You do not need it translated to modern English...I'll stop the world and melt with you...really. It's fine, and beautiful, and without the cadence it just becomes covered in normal goop and the truth struggles to shine through. Sad Julie is sad.)
 |
| This is Gagan Rassmussen. He's a prick. |
Our antagonist is Gagan Rassmussen, the lead researcher on the Le Verrier Space Station in orbit around Neptune sometime in the 38th century. He urges people not to watch the video, but then explains how the video came to be. He also introduces our cast of characters...Nagata, Chopra, Deep-Ando, and 474. Nagata's our CO, Chopra's the militant political member of the rescue party who is against something called Morpheus, Deep-Ando is the joker of the group, and 474 is a clone bred Grunt...low intelligence, loads of muscle. 474 is also played by our first ever trans actress (Bethany Black) to appear in Doctor Who, which obviously elicited a cheer for me (and tears later, about which more later).
They've been sent to find out why the base fell silent 24 hours ago. And as they search the base, they finally do find two people...stress and engineering investigators named Clara Oswald and the Doctor. They are conscripted into the party, and the fun begins.
 |
| Welcome to Morpheus. Please keep hands and legs inside the pod at all times. |
Through a series of 'found' footage (apparently shot from helmet cams that aren't really there...I'm not sure, but I think I got that right...because the truth is far more sinister) and Doom/Quake style first person footage, we get a real sense of the place. It's grotty, even for being shut down for a day. And in a laboratory, where our group (save Deep-Ando) is chased by one of the weirdest and most id-disturbing monsters I've seen in Who, we find a series of pods. Clara is pulled into one and gets to experience the Morpheus effect personally.
What Morpheus does is sends an electronic signal to the brain to mimic the effects for a full 8 hours sleep. In this new works, where the earth has been affected by The Great Catastrophe, India and Japan have merged under one massive political powerhouse, profit and efficiency are everything, and Morpheus gives that edge.
In the Doctor's words to Rasmussen, 'Congratulations. You've revolutionised the labour market. You've overcome nature. You've also created an abomination.
In a perfect example of calling things out (where the last two weeks were so subtle), Rassmussen's dressed in a weird black suit and his hair is all Zorg or vague Hitler comb over. Se we know he's the bad guy even if the monsters seem to be the bad guy. It's an interesting, if ham-fisted, element, and it will pay off some near the end of the episode.
 |
| This is not Neil Gaiman's Sandman. Neither is it Mr. Sandman, bringing a dream. |
The rest of the episode is a combination of The Running Game and a murder mystery, with a 'what are the monsters really' on top? Deep-Ando is eaten by the monsters, which have been called Sandmen by Clara first, then the Doctor. The Sandmen are created by the dust in the corner of your eyes, conglomerating like a colony until they reach sentience and bipedal form. Sleep is the only thing that keeps them from forming, so Rasmussen's defeat of sleep has caused these creatures to evolve.
Lovely guy.
 |
| Or 474/Bethany Black...you deserved so much more and so much better. |
474 bravely presses through a wall of fire to rescue Chopra, and dies/gets eaten in the process, after having one last chance to tell Chopra he's pretty in her broken, low intelligence way (and that kicked me in the gut, and is doing so as I type this). She then charges the sandmen to give Chopra time to escape, but Chopra is trapped by the Sandmen and is eaten even as he plans to blow up the station to stop the contagion.
Clara is infected as a result of her 5 minute stay in a chamber, and the Doctor promises to save her life. Nagata is infected because she's an avid user. The Doctor promises to save her. And they finally catch Rasmussen in what looks like an escape ship with one bio-pod in it, which contains patient Zero...the first Morpheus client, awake for 5 years, and very angry when he comes out of his pod. Rasmussen is far from lucid explaining how the Sandmen convinced him that they were superior and needed food...they saved him in order to be brought to Titan (one of the moons of Neptune) to feed and then spread. The Doctor, as is his wont, tries to reason with him; Nagata reasons with her gun.
 |
| I am the Sandman King...I can do anything. |
With the King of all Sandmen chasing them, the only thing for it is to run to the TARDIS, which it turns out is surrounded by Sandmen. The Doctor shuts down the grav shields, which cause the Sandmen to decay, and the three survivors make a break for it.
In a sort of epilogue Rasmussen reveals all of this was his plan, and hopes the viewers enjoyed his little video. He then reveals his true plot...the video has been encoded with the Morpheus signal, so by watching it, the infection spreads to anyone who watches it. He then begins to shift, revealing that he is also a Sandman, and crumbles before our eyes as the grav shields fail.
Well.
As I fell asleep last night, I thought to myself that this was probably the Ghost Light of the series...the episode that was impenetrable and required additional viewings to tease out the meaning. I don't feel that way this morning, and that's why I wait 24 hours before writing, so I can parse everything. Here are some pros and cons:
PRO
1) The monsters were weird and neatly designed
2) The idea of sleep as a life preserver, literally, is a good one
3) Another political statement about the wrongness of a purely profit and efficiency driven system is appropriately leftist
4) I cared about 474, hated seeing her bullied, and liked her heroic arc at the end
CON
1) What happened to the ship?
2) What happened to Clara?
3) What happened to Nagata?
4) Did that broadcast get broadcast?
5) What happened to Triton?
6) Is everything we see or seem, but a dream within a dream?
And then I look at the author.
Mark Gatiss.
Mark Mark Mark...you've done such good work. You have. The Crimson Horror, Cold War, Night Horrors, The Unquiet Dead...some very good to excellent episodes. But we get to blame you for The Idiot's Lantern and Victory of the Daleks and Robots of Sherwood, and now this one. A .500 average would not only get you in to Cooperstown, it'd label you the greatest hitter of all time in baseball. In TV writing, it is...less than average. It's a shame, because I wasn't paying attention to the opening credits and had I realised it was a Gatiss episode, my expectations would have been tempered. At one time I wanted him to be head writer after Moffat left the position...anymore I am less than sure.
Is this the setup for Clara's exit and possible death?
I don't know.
I know we have 3 eps left, and next week features Maisie Williams again, as well as our buddy Riggsy from last year's Flatline. I know after that we have the series finale 2 parter. Ad I hope (even though hope is expectation and expectation is a prison) that this was a momentary dip and we rise back up again. While Sleep No More was dark like the rest of the series, and I can definitely see it being terrifying to young kids (and heard as much last night), in the end, this episode disappointed.
14 November 2015
Archive: Some Brief Thoughts about The Witch’s Familiar
(NB: muck like last week, I am prefacing Whoday with an archive review of a past episode this series for catch up purposes. Once Series 9 is done, I will be doing a regular feature on Tuesdays for past reviews I've written, starting with Series 4, when I started reviewing.
For now, enjoy this, and ignore the dates. -- The Management)
It’s Sunday afternoon, I’m behind, and this is my Brief thoughts post about The Witch’s Familiar, Series 9 Episode 2 of Doctor Who (2005-date)
For a show that’s so much about becoming better and helping people, this series has started out exceptionally dark. I’ve no idea where we’re going, and I have a lot of unanswered questions, which I’ll list at the bottom, but the body count this year so far has been pretty high...if you count Daleks as having bodies. And we’ve got a hella unrepentant Doctor, haunted by shame, and I hope that comes into play a lot more because I want to know what he’s ashamed of.
Anyway...here’s my moment by moment reactions for the episode...
1) Oooh, dizzy. Spinny upside down.
2) And of course, Clara and Missy are alive.
3) The Doctor trapped. The Doctor alone.
4) And an adventure without anyone!
5) Stalked 50 invisible android assassins.
6) 'I may be rounding up.' So Simm-Master.
7) And still with a cannibal vore thing going on.
8) How did he survive?
9) Consider the Doctor. What a phrase.
10) Clara works it out!
11) And that explains how she escaped the Cybermen.
12) A...nest of vampire monkeys?
13) But that's another story.
14) And that had to hurt.
15) 'I love killing clever clogs...they make the best faces.'
16) We, on the other hand, have a pointy stick.
17) 'I was actually quite peckish!'
18) 'Can I have a stick too?' 'Make your own stick!'
19) What a pre-credits sequence! Love it.
20) And into Skaro.
For now, enjoy this, and ignore the dates. -- The Management)
It’s Sunday afternoon, I’m behind, and this is my Brief thoughts post about The Witch’s Familiar, Series 9 Episode 2 of Doctor Who (2005-date)
For a show that’s so much about becoming better and helping people, this series has started out exceptionally dark. I’ve no idea where we’re going, and I have a lot of unanswered questions, which I’ll list at the bottom, but the body count this year so far has been pretty high...if you count Daleks as having bodies. And we’ve got a hella unrepentant Doctor, haunted by shame, and I hope that comes into play a lot more because I want to know what he’s ashamed of.
Anyway...here’s my moment by moment reactions for the episode...
1) Oooh, dizzy. Spinny upside down.
2) And of course, Clara and Missy are alive.
3) The Doctor trapped. The Doctor alone.
4) And an adventure without anyone!
5) Stalked 50 invisible android assassins.
6) 'I may be rounding up.' So Simm-Master.
7) And still with a cannibal vore thing going on.
8) How did he survive?
9) Consider the Doctor. What a phrase.
10) Clara works it out!
11) And that explains how she escaped the Cybermen.
12) A...nest of vampire monkeys?
13) But that's another story.
14) And that had to hurt.
15) 'I love killing clever clogs...they make the best faces.'
16) We, on the other hand, have a pointy stick.
17) 'I was actually quite peckish!'
18) 'Can I have a stick too?' 'Make your own stick!'
19) What a pre-credits sequence! Love it.
20) And into Skaro.
13 November 2015
Evening Music: Mahler, Symphony #2 'Auferstehung'
Osda svhiyeyi. It's 9:09 PM and this is Evening Music.
No words tonight.
Except these.
For Paris. For Missouri. For Ferguson. For Beirut. For Gaza. For Bahrain. For The West Bank. For Syria. For Mogadishu. For Mosul. For Baghdad. For a million other places where the oppressed are killed by those in power...political, religious, racial.
'This will be our reply to violence:to make music more intensely,more beautifully,more devotedly than ever before.'
Osda svnoi, sidanelvhi, tsunalii, gaquenvdi. Ayv gvgeyui nihi ♥
Ayv gvgeyui nihi, adageyudi ♥ ♥ ♥
Choose your Masques (String Quartet #2, Op. 15)
Another heavy, personal post. Abandon hope, ye who enter here.
I want to write upbeat stuff here too.
It's just been difficult.
On one hand, I've been having a rough past almost 4 weeks. I'm on an increased dose of lamictal and it's
not really stabilising my mood. There
have been a lot of tears the past few days, there have been communication
issues, and I've been struggling emotionally, though not to the point that I
feel I am in any danger. Nor do the
people who know me.
I have said for a long time that I finally took off the last
mask when I revealed myself as me, but I realise that's not entirely true. I still carry a mask to fake being happy for
people. I am an empath, and I take care
of people's problems...often before mine, or in lieu of mine. It is how I am. And I can be absolutely screaming in
emotional pain inside, and I'll still help someone else first.
So I do happy things on Facebook. I post memes.
I post music. I post space
stuff. I post a lot of angry SJW stuff
too, don't get me wrong, but it's becoming easier and easier to write at length
here about myself without writing a note than maybe 2 or 3 people will
read. I know no one will comment here
either, but that makes it more a secret diary that I can keep to myself. I link it to places, like tweeter and G+ and FB sometimes, but it's
variable.
I am large, I contain multitudes. I have been through so much in my life. My parents are divorced. My grandfather passed away when I was young
and I still don't feel I ever mourned his passing properly. I've spent my whole life lying to people
about who I am...which has led to depression since well before my teen
years. I'm withdrawn because I'm afraid
to let people in. I have communication
issues because things I think are funny end up offending because tone doesn't
translate to text. I've had cancer. I've had a heart attack. I've had my heart stopped on an emergency
room table (She said...I know what it's like to be dead...I know what it is to
be sad). And I'm trans, which adds its
own set of...stuff...(I want hormones yesterday, I want my testosterone gone, I
hate my body build, I hate my hair).
And I write about this here.
Because I'm pretty sure no one on Facebook wants to read my
whinging.
Not with more important issues going on.
And I want to write geeky stuff here, because it is such a
part of me. And I do on occasion. I do write about comic books, and Doctor
Who. I post some of my fic and my
poetry. I want to write about what I am writing about, tell you about this amazing OC named Tessa, and all of that. Because she excites me and makes me want to write more about her and the things that happen to her and her platoon of Misfits,
It just seems I end up writing
about heavy personal issues because it's really the only place I have to put
this (I'd physically journal this but you do not want to see my
handwriting). So I am at a loss,
really...and it's not a comfortable place for me to be.
12 November 2015
Life with Anxiety (Op. 14 for 23 strings)
For only the second time since I started being treated for
my PTSD/MDD/SAD/GAD, I had to break down and take my Emergency Ativan today.
For the uninitiated, I carry a script bottle with 6 MG of
Ativan with me when I am going places that don't involve seeing people I know
that would be able to keep me centered and distracted and get me out of a
situation that would cause me to break down.
Anymore than mostly means work, but hopefully in the near future will
mean more.
Today has been an exceedingly difficult day for me...one
that started with a joke gone awry that caused someone to get exceptionally
angry at me. I don't want to get into that
more than that statement, save to say I apologised and removed the joke so as
to hopefully no longer offend. That
ended up putting me back in bed for an hour plus shaking but otherwise holding
it together.
Vaguely.
Then I got to work.
My boss left for a service call, and I was...not great, but OK. Then I had one of my repeat PC customers come
in, incredibly distraught. Apparently
someone recorded a video at Dartmouth
of a crew ship dedication to a member of her family, and her grandparents
couldn't access the YouTube link. A
minute or two of thinking later, I figured out the problem, and the solution,
and we watched as it worked. And she
grabbed me in my chair, spun me around, hugged me and started crying.
And that was it for Julie.
I held it together until she left, then collapsed on my desk
crying. Just everything
today...inability to communicate, jokes that apparently aren't jokes...being
whipsawed back and forth between feeling like I've fucked up and feeling like
I've just made someone's lifetime...I can't handle it.
So I broke.
And dissolved an Ativan under my tongue so it'll act faster.
And I feel weak, even though I know that's what they are
for.
I feel weak because I should not let things get to me.
I feel weak because I've spent most of my life trying to keep my emotions in serious check.
I feel weak because I had to give in.
I feel everything so keenly.
Movies make me cry. TV shows make
me cry. Music makes me cry. Artwork makes me cry. It makes me laugh, and feel joy as well...I
don't want to focus on just the negative.
But I don't want to have to resort to Emergency Ativan.
And it upsets me when I do.
Comics for the kid in Julie's heart...
If I am reading the Marvel Previews book I got yesterday with my purchases correctly...
The Mighty Thor #1: still female, looks like she's a cancer patient? In with 1. Even though I have a feeling some of it will be hella hard for me to real.
Ms. Marvel #1: Still Kamala, which makes me happy as a happy thing. And apparently a member of the Avengers now? In.
11 November 2015
Today's trek to the FLCBS
Spider-Gwen 2. I've really been enjoying this series, and this issue (I nearly wrote episode) should be introducing us to a new Captain America. I'm well excited!
8House #5. I admit I haven't started this series yet, but I'm about to dive in. The premise is amazing, and I've looked at the art and have been blown away. So more soon.
X-Files Season 11, #4. Home Again, Part 2. I've held off on last issue to read both of them together. This may or may not be a wonderful idea, considering the original episode is one of the most difficult to watch hours of TV ever.
On being skeeved out (Op. 13)
I didn't write about this yesterday because I was still trying to parse what happened.
I'm really not done parsing this, and wondering if this was something to skeeve over or not.
But I'm writing about it, so there must be something there.
Yesterday I had therapy. I go once a week, and generally it's helpful. Like a good girl, I got there early, and I really need to start bringing my own reading material, because reading pregnancy magazines just depresses the hell out of me.
Now, I don't pass. I get that. I'm ancient, and I understand this, and as long as I think I look good, I'm OK. 99.9% of people don't say anything, or are at least considerate enough to wait till I'm out of earshot to say anything. I'm thankful for that.
So I'm sitting in the waiting room. And there's this guy there. And as soon as I sat down, he stopped the conversation he was having and started looking at me. Like really looking at me, with this little smile on his face, and while I tried not to pay attention, I could feel it, and it was...unnerving. I was glad to get called in to the back for my session.
When I got out, he was still there.
And as soon as I walked back into the waiting room, he turned and started in on me again.
Staring.
Weird little smile.
Unnerving.
I pick up my pace and walk out...and out of the corner of my eye I see him follow me.
I walk across the parking lot to my car, and get in, and he's standing at the edge of the side walk, just staring.
And I know, therapists office, I shouldn't judge, I really shouldn't, probably has his own issues to deal with...but I couldn't help but feel really uncomfortable with the situation.
I'm not a small woman...though I am smaller than I was a year ago by over 25% (big yay, everyone), though still on a five foot eleven frame (Julie. Is. Tall. Even taller in heels.). If he did anything, I could have held my own. But if I feel unnerved over this...
And it's only the beginning.
I'm really not done parsing this, and wondering if this was something to skeeve over or not.
But I'm writing about it, so there must be something there.
Yesterday I had therapy. I go once a week, and generally it's helpful. Like a good girl, I got there early, and I really need to start bringing my own reading material, because reading pregnancy magazines just depresses the hell out of me.
Now, I don't pass. I get that. I'm ancient, and I understand this, and as long as I think I look good, I'm OK. 99.9% of people don't say anything, or are at least considerate enough to wait till I'm out of earshot to say anything. I'm thankful for that.
So I'm sitting in the waiting room. And there's this guy there. And as soon as I sat down, he stopped the conversation he was having and started looking at me. Like really looking at me, with this little smile on his face, and while I tried not to pay attention, I could feel it, and it was...unnerving. I was glad to get called in to the back for my session.
When I got out, he was still there.
And as soon as I walked back into the waiting room, he turned and started in on me again.
Staring.
Weird little smile.
Unnerving.
I pick up my pace and walk out...and out of the corner of my eye I see him follow me.
I walk across the parking lot to my car, and get in, and he's standing at the edge of the side walk, just staring.
And I know, therapists office, I shouldn't judge, I really shouldn't, probably has his own issues to deal with...but I couldn't help but feel really uncomfortable with the situation.
I'm not a small woman...though I am smaller than I was a year ago by over 25% (big yay, everyone), though still on a five foot eleven frame (Julie. Is. Tall. Even taller in heels.). If he did anything, I could have held my own. But if I feel unnerved over this...
And it's only the beginning.
10 November 2015
VLOG #1: Please allow me to introduce myself...
I'm vlogging OMG.
I'll be doing a vlog every week (I hope) about...something? Maybe comics, maybe my writing, maybe my feelings and transness, maybe music, I have no idea yet. I'll probably literally pick something the night before and try not to make a fool of myself.
So with this, I have popped my vlogging cherry.
I'm going to go pass out now. Or exercise.
One of the two.
FIC: The Man in the Long Black Coat
Somebody seen him hangin' around
As the old dance hall on the outskirts of town
He looked into her eyes when she stopped him to ask
If he wanted to dance he had a face like a mask
Somebody said from the bible he'd quote
There was dust on the man in the long black coat.
The
Man in the Long Black Coat
Bob Dylan
“Daily log
entry commences. Commander Strax
reporting. There has been no change in
the situation in this Earth city they call Lon-Don. The citizens are, as mentioned in previous
log entries, by and large unarmed, and easy targets for even a single Sontaran
vessel. Their military forces, such as
they are, would be no match for the might of the Sontaran Empire!”
Strax
paused, looked around, and then quickly grabbed a biscuit from a nearby
plate. Looking about one last time, he
took a large bite before continuing.
“In the
interim, since my ability to obtain current field reports under current
conditions is limited, I have begun to take a survey of the humans’
foodstuffs. I do believe it will provide
important tactical information for the coming invasion. At this time, my survey shows that these
so-called butter orange mint biscuits are of particular interest, and could
perhaps be used as…”
The
clicking of a door latch snapped Strax out of his biscuit-induced log entry
almost immediately.
“Log entry
ends!” he muttered, clicking a button on the wrist recorder built into his body
armour. Quickly tossing the rest of the
biscuit into his mouth, he rolled down his shirt sleeve, rebuttoned the cuff,
and pulled his jacket sleeve down just as Jenny Flint and Madame Vastra rounded
the corner, towels draped over their shoulders.
Without a word, Strax quickly walked past his housemates and attempted
to make himself absent as expeditiously as possible
“I must
say, Jenny,” Vastra spoke, her voice tired yet slightly playful, “your reaction
times are improving.”
“Improving,
ma’am?” Jenny replied, one eyebrow slightly raised. “I thought my reaction times were never an
issue before.”
Vastra
chuckled.
“You know
full well what I mean, Jenny. You know I
was impressed by how quickly you picked up the use of my ōdachi, even when I found it a bit unwieldy. The katana
is more my style…quicker, subtler. But
there is a difference between swordplay and hand to hand combat, and you…”
Vastra
paused, sniffed once, and furrowed her brows.
She spun on her heels, causing Jenny to jump back just a bit in
shock. Without skipping a beat, Vastra
yelled.
“STRAX!”
The call
echoed through the house and left nothing but silence.
“STRAX! FRONT AND CENTRE IMMEDIATELY!”
Jenny could
hear Vastra’s nails clicking against the countertop. They beat a slight counterpoint to the
shuffling steps that slowly made their way down the hall. Those steps were followed a few moments later
by a very nervous looking Sontaran dressed in tailcoat, waistcoat and tie.
“Yes,
Madame Vastra?” Strax replied, the nervousness clearly audible in his voice.
“You have
been at the biscuits again. Am I
correct?”
Strax
paused for a moment before replying.
“No…Madame. I…have not been at the biscuits. Again.”
Vastra
sighed.
“First off,
Strax, there is a distinct odour of orange mint in the air…far stronger than
there would be had the biscuits not been disturbed. Secondly, when Jenny and I went downstairs to
practice her Daitō-ryū, the plate of
biscuits was near the oven, while now, on our return, they are sitting here,
nearer where we came across you after our session.”
She then reached
out and brushed some crumbs from the lapel of Strax’s coat.
“Finally…there
are these.”
Jenny
barely stifled her giggle as Strax deflated in defeat.
“But Madame
Vastra…”
“No buts!”
she exclaimed. “You are already
complaining about how difficult it is for you to fit into your Sontaran battle
armour as it is. Do you think I can just
pop down to the local haberdasher and ask, ‘Pardon, good sir, but have you any
Sontaran Battle Armour in a size…”
She looked
at Strax and struggled for the right word.
“…in a size
bigger than this?” she finally replied, pointing directly at Strax.
“But…”
“I SAID NO
BUTS!” Vastra yelled. Both Jenny and
Strax jumped at the cold steel in her voice.
Vastra herself was taken aback by how sharp her words sounded, and took
a deep breath before continuing.
“I apologise,
Strax. I know it is difficult, adjusting
to a new life and a new planet. Even
though I was born here, after years in hibernation, it seemed very much a new
planet for me as well. Luckily, I have
the fortune of having had a longer time to adjust than you. But you are barely making an effort! I hear you making your log entries about the
softness of this planet and ‘the glories of the Sontaran Empire, Sontar Ha!’”
She paused
and took a breath.
“But
please, Strax…do try and make an effort here.
Jenny and I have both seen what you can do…we saw it on Demon’s
Run. This may not be to your liking, but
it is a good place, and there is room in it for you.”
Vastra
smiled.
“As long as
you do not eat us out of house and home, that is.”
Strax
exhaled in a huff.
“Fine,
Madame Vastra. Is there anything further
you need of me this evening?”
“No,”
Vastra replied, still smiling. “You may
retire to your chambers. Go…polish your
guns, or play with your grenades or something.
But please…do not blow up the house.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)