Tonight's Song, Stuck on Repeat

You know when you find those songs that just, well, sound like somebody wrote them about your life? That's this song for me.

Well, this and Leed's United. Heh heh.


Five and Dime
The Wind and the Swell

I sleep all through my mornings
Spend my afternoons just lying in my bed
Cause I’ve done everything I could do
And I’ve said everything that I could’ve said
It kills me to think that straight lines
Have taken over the life that I’ve led

So say fare-thee-well to the concrete
I try to stand up on my own two feet
There aren’t any more winds in the road
That will be my time to go

With my eyes glued on the road
And from my fingers to my toes
I am aware of everything that I can know
So I’ll stand tall and I’ll stand proud
I’ll sing a song, I’ll sing it loud
I’ll bury all my apprehension underground

I don’t even know which way to go
I’ll pack my things and head home

I keep smiling at everybody
Passing by me while I get dirty looks
All my friends were empty liars
So I’ve just been hanging out
With the wanderers and crooks
There’s no value in education
It’s just lies and pens and paper and notebooks

Forgot about the state of the world
So I’ll just fall in love with a girl
Got too many years left to spend
She’s all I think about in the end

I’ll take my cue from rock ‘n roll
And everything that I’ve been told
Everything that I have known for my whole life
And I’ve been too afraid to use
And I’ve been too weak to abuse
And too concerned that I might lose this silly game

I don’t even know which way to go
Pack my things and head home

I’ve got some family in Alaska
Got some friends out in old Ohio
And I’d be fine to take some sun
And I’d be more than fine to play in the snow

I don’t want to be no businessman
Don’t want to be no crooked CEO
So take me out to Kodiak Island
We’ll go out to sea for a while
With my legs hanging off the stern
See what I can learn

The Northern Lights say hi
And throw all their colours into the sky
I’ll be sure to tell them that I’m doing fine
There’s just so much to explore
That I have never seen before
There are some things that are
Just easier to ignore

I don’t even know which way to go
I’ll pack my things and head home

Beowulf

I can't believe people actually took the trouble to make this movie. What a waste of space.

Work it Out

I've put on six pounds since J. and I moved in together, largely due to the lack of gym across the street (I got used to the convenience of the gym at The Greene), and our shared love of good food. And, OK, some of this is also weight I put on *because* of the new "low rep, heavy weight" routine with our trainers at work, which has really nicely increased my muscle mass, but I'm not silly enough to delude myself into thinking I've gained 6 lbs of muscle in 8 weeks.

And... well, let's face it: I'm not functioning optiminally when I'm not eating right and exercising regularly. I've been trying to get off carbs for good the last few weeks, but there's the inevitable, "Oh, I'll treat myself to a few fries at Red Robin" or "Oh, Donatoes pizza isn't actually as bad for me as those thick crust pizzas," and then I'm back on the sugar rollercoaster again, and it always takes me a day or two to get back into prime head functioning.

I really needed to be able to write with a clear head.

So, enough was enough. I was just feeling far too doughy. Biking to work every day wasn't making up for the extra workout or two a week that I've been missing since I moved.

So I started penciling in 20 minutes of cardio twice a week (Tae bo) and 20 minutes of pilates twice a week (on the days I also do strength training at the gym). Pair this with the 2 miles on the bike every day, and it should kick me back into gear. I also decided to start packing reasonable lunches. One enchilada or chicken wrap paired with string cheese and peanuts is perfectly fine. I really don't need two.

Next stop is to curb my soda intake. We drink Coke Zero here like it's going out of style. Having cold drinks in the fridge is especially tempting now when it's so damn hot outside. I'm subbing those out again with homemade iced tea. Not only is the soda expensive, but drinking more than one or two disrupts my sleep and tends to trigger my desire for something sweet to go with it.

Strengthwise, however, I've been pretty happy with my new routine with the personal trainers at work. What I love about heavy lifting is that you can see the results within just a couple of weeks. Getting up the pedestrian walkway over the highway on my bike has gotten easier and easier. I went from 3rd gear on my bike to 6th gear in just a couple of weeks of riding, and I know some of that is a result of the lower body training I'm doing during my workouts.

Should take a couple of weeks to norm the new routine. Already feeling far less fuzzy headed. Ah, sugar sugar.

Diabetic-Friendly Low Carb Coconut Cookies

1 cup almond flour
1/4 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup Splenda (3/4 for less sweet)
1/2 cup butter
1 teaspoon of baking powder
3 tablespoons vanilla (liberal splash, really)
1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup of flaked coconut (unsweetened)

Combine all ingredients except coconut and blend with a mixer. Stir in the coconut and mix well. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto a cookie sheet.

Bake at 375°F for 10 minutes.

My insulin budget works out to 5 carbs a piece for these.

For 12-15 carb pecan cream cheese cookies, see here.

Excerpt: Black Desert Gets a Plot Shift

Black Desert is currently in the middle of a heavy rewrite. Here's some additional sceneage I was working on today (I'll post something with a bit more action tomorrow):

____________________


“Mercia’s mother called,” Suha said. She put out the cigarette and stuffed a wad of sen between teeth and cheek. Her teeth were stained bloody crimson from long years of use. Both habits were far healthier substitutes to venom.

“She deposit my fee?” Nyx asked.

“Yeah. Says she’s taking you off her daughter’s case, though.”

“You serious?”

“Says she heard we had some trouble downtown today.”

“Fucking diplomats. She should thank me for keeping her daughter alive.”

“I called the bounty note office like you asked,” Suha said. She started the bakkie and turned them out onto south Raban. From here, Nyx could just see the curved amber spire of the Orrizo in the distance – a monument to anonymous dead men. “There’s no record that anybody put out a note on you or Mercia. That bel dame was definitely rogue. Maybe running black work for some Ras Tiegan government official? Somebody who wanted to get to Mercia’s mother?”

“Then at least I’ve got my right ass cheek covered,” Nyx said. The left, she wasn’t so sure about.

Eshe hopped up and down in his seat. Nyx wondered if she was ever that giddy at fourteen. “Does this mean we’re going to the bel dame office?”

“It means I’m going to the bel dame office,” Nyx said. She palmed some of Suha’s sen.

“Thought you made a habit of running black work back when you were a bel dame,” Suha said. “Why do you care so much about turning her in? Burn the head and be done with it.”

“I don’t generally mind folks running around picking up illegal bounties,” Nyx said, “but she made a mistake.”

“And what was that?” Suha said.

“She tried to kill me.”

Eshe snickered.

“You sure they’ll let you in there?” Suha said.

“We’ll find out.”

The bel dame reclamation office in Mushtallah was at the base of the city’s sixth hill, known to many as Bloodmount. Particularly pious Nasheenians paid exorbitant prices to take a brief, musty tour of the interior of the derelict that made up the center of the hill. Most of the hills of Mushtallah were artificial. Their rotting cores were made up of old refugee ships, derelicts from the mass exodus from the moons back at the beginning of the world. Nyx had never been down there – she didn’t much care what came before her – but she heard most of it was sealed off anyway. What was left was just a sterile tangle of old metal, bug secretions, and bone dust.

As they came around Palace Hill, Bloodmount came into view. At the height of the hill, a single tower gleamed a burnished copper color. That was the only visible part of the ship above ground, a twisted metal spire where every bel dame took her oath to uphold the old laws of blood debt.

“You sure you want to do this today?” Suha muttered, and spit sen out the open window.

Nyx stared out at the spire. The bel dame training schools, residences, and reclamation office ringed the base of the hill. From here, she couldn’t see the organic filter that protected the hill, but she’d been through it enough to know that it was the most powerful one in Nasheen. Hard to do, with Palace Hill just up the street. The inner filters were more precise, and more deadly. She didn’t figure she’d get much past the first filter on this little jaunt.

Suha drove to the big, burst-scarred main gate at the base of the hill. This neighborhood was mostly boxing gyms and cheap eateries. There were a few shabby text stores and some bodegas. Nyx stepped out of the bakkie and looked up in the tenement windows above the shops. Teenage girls - bel dame hopefuls and university students - sat around on the tiny balconies. High pitched laughter trickled out over the street. She caught a whiff of marijuana, opium, and the distinctive milky stink of too many teenage women. A couple of leggy girls stood on the stoop of a bodega across from the bakkie. They smoked clove and marijuana cigarettes and wore calf-length burnouses and looked Nyx over with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Can I come?” Eshe asked, leaning out the window. A couple of passing girls turned at his voice and stared outright. One of them stumbled. Her companion shrieked with laughter.

Nyx pushed his head back into the bakkie. “Stay with Suha. This isn’t a good place for boys.”

“Nyx –“

“You heard me. I’ll lose com with you once I’m inside the filter,” Nyx told Suha. “I’m not back in two hours, you file a report with the Order Keepers.” Not that it would do much good. Bel dames considered themselves autonomous. How they dealt with Nyx and her news was no business of the Queen’s, so far as they were concerned - even if Nyx hadn’t been one of their number in over a decade. At least if someone filed a report her absence would be noted.

Nyx motioned for Suha to pop the trunk. She dug the burnous-wrapped bel dame’s head out of the back and slung it over her shoulder. The burnous had eaten most of the blood, but it was stained a clotted amber brown.

She leaned into the driver’s side window and nodded to the side street. “There’s a good Ras Tiegan place two streets over called the Montrouge. Get the kid a soda and some curried dog.”

Eshe grimaced. “Tonight’s fight night.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Nyx said. “Save room for rotis and beer, all right? I might be a bit.”

She wanted to pat his head, but he’d been too old for that for a long time. She snorted. Kids belonged at the coast. Nobody else knew what to do with them. She'd always thought it'd get easier as he got older. But it just got more awkward. Some days she wished he'd stayed eight years old forever.

“You watch yourself in there,” Suha said.

“You watch yourself out here,” Nyx said, and waved. She walked up to the front gate, and turned to watch Suha drive back out onto the main street.

There was a young woman at the gate, just a kid, maybe twenty. Couldn’t have served a day at the front. She had clear skin and clear, shiny eyes. Definitely not a day at the front.

“Here to report a rogue bel dame,” Nyx said.

“You got identification?” the woman said. Nyx held out her hand.

The woman pricked Nyx’s finger and smeared the blood on her desktop slide.

Nyx watched her reaction as the file came up. But the girl barely blinked. She raised her head.

“You’ve got level one clearance. You can go as far as the reclamation office without being cleaned.” She punched open the gate.

Nyx slipped inside. The gate clanged behind her. Old metal, the sort of stuff that came off derelicts. She walked across the courtyard, past the bakkie barns. A couple of tissue mechanics raised their heads as she passed.

The bounty reclamation office was a single-story building of amber stone. Most of the original arches had been whittled away by small arms fire, and what remained had been badly reconstructed. Only half of the bel dame oath was visible. The complete line, the heart of the bel dame oath, was “My life for a thousand.” All that was visible above the office was “My life.” Nyx thought that somehow appropriate, knowing what she did about bel dames.

She hesitated at the stoop. It'd been awhile since she crossed one of these thresholds.

"Well, shit," she said aloud, and hauled the bel dame's head into the office.

Zack and Miri Make a Porno

Don't. Just... Don't.

I'm all about a good Kevin Smith movie. This is not a good Kevin Smith movie. The characters are not only not likeable (which can be forgiven - there are plenty of unlikeable folks in fiction) but not interesting. There's this crazy misogynist bent running throughout (it's about porn, afterall. Still, I'd hoped it would be a little more transgressively about porn. I should know better than to expect transgression from Kevin Smith).

The real letdown here was Seth Rogan, who I genuinely like in 40 Year Old Virgin, and who I'd really have liked to develop a crush on. But he's actively unlikeable in this movie. He goes off on this really mean, sexist rant about halfway through, and I'd like to think it was just great acting, but I don't get that his depth as an actor could really stretch too far from home plate.

So the show is sexist to the point of misogyny, ridiculously racist, and worst of all: none of it's even funny. If you're going to be sexist and racist, can you do it in a smart, sly, *funny* way? There's a way to do this that's clever. This movie isn't clever. South Park knows how to criticize everybody in a way that's creative and... not lazy.

This is just a lazy piece of storytelling with dull characters who don't even stay in character. It's a lazy orgasm of every "nice guy"'s wish fulfillment fantasy: that the woman you've been pining after for years who insists that you'll always be "just friends" finally has sex with you and realizes - OMG! - she's actually in love with you!

See, guys, all we really need is one good lay.... Maybe if you just get her drunk enough or poor enough she'll sleep with you! THEN SHE WILL KNOW THE TRUTH.

And it's sad, right? Because in the movie, he genuinely likes her, and it made me think of all these sad, groping guys who don't understand the difference between fantasy and reality.

You know, I write fantasy novels, and this fantasy was just too over the top for me.

Lazy writing. Lazy directing. Lazy acting. Lazy, lazy, lazy.

Gods and Monsters and Valkyries Oh My!

I picked up NorseCode based primarily on the strength of the back cover copy and first chapter, which is usually a good sign (Not always. See The Electric Church for first chapter readings that went wrong). Turns out this is the sort of book that makes me second guess my aversion for books clothed in urban fantasy covers (cause c’mon, you know this is how God’s War is going to look).

I’ve known Greg via shared friends/colleagues for some time, but it’s actually rare that I enjoy a book written by somebody I know. It’s just statistics: of all the books being written by all the folks in the SF/F community, I’m only going to like a certain fraction. The folks I know in the SF/F community represent a fraction of that fraction.

So anyways, this is an end-of-the-world-comes-to-California novel, made better by flawed gods and rogue Valkyries with swords. Overall, it’s good eats: totally epic battles and a whirlwind tour of Hel. There are just enough POV shifts, interesting characters, and great settings. It’s a good beach book.

And, of course, it helps that the female characters don’t suck. Who doesn’t want to read about a Valkyrie who’s good with a sword, really?

A couple of personal annoyances: our heroine and her sister had very similar voices. Totally different characters with very different views on life, but when I was in one head as opposed to the other, I couldn’t really tell much difference. They acted/reacted in very similar ways, and had similar thought processes. I actually wondered, for awhile, if they were twins and this was supposed to show how alike they were. In fact, they’re at least a couple of years apart, which is hard to tell based on voice and their interactions.

And, you know, the pan-to-the-lamp “romance” between the Valkyrie and one of the gods was, eh, so-so, and I was reeeeeally glad it was just a “pan to the lamp” romance. I liked that she was the active initiator of the relationship (gods rape human women so much in myth that seeing a human woman initiate was a nice change), but it felt a little strained. I had no idea what they saw in each other, except that they were a man and a woman at the end of the world. Maybe that’s enough.

In any case, this was a fun read. I was pleased to see eight copies on the shelf at the big bookstore in Newport, KY that J. and I visited on our way to see a far less entertaining bit of media...

Terminator, Or What the Fuck Did You Do With My Sarah Conner

This movie would have been better if I wrote it. It wouldn’t have sucked as hard.

How about this: they could have written all the parts that had to do with robots. And I would have written everything that had to do with the people.

It's true, the new Terminator machine concept was great. I genuinely liked the new Terminator model, and the creepy goo behind it. The heart imagery was way overdone (and let’s not even get into who the fuck is going to do a successful heart transplant in a field hospital but anyway), but dial it down by 50% and it would have been neat.

As J. said to me afterwards, “Well… I liked the robots.”

Indeed. The robots were great. They were fast, interesting, and in the case of the Terminator himself, strong, brave, and kickass.

But the people? The people sucked.

Let me tell you the fucking problem with the last two Terminator movies, because it’s pretty bloody obvious to anybody who loved the first two.

The problem is there’s no Sarah Conner. And I don't just mean Sarah Conner the actual character. I mean Sarah Conner the archtype.

I had great hopes for Christian Bale as John Conner. Because, you know, like anybody else who grew up watching Sarah battle it out for the future (her son’s and humanity’s), you really want to like him. No, you want to LOVE him. You want this to be the great, awesome, heroic, courageous leader you’ve been hearing about your whole life. This was the movie where I thought I would see him become that amazing leader. When he spoke, I wanted to be inspired. I wanted to believe him. I wanted a leader.

Instead, what I got was a whiny, hesitant, terrified grunt with a monotone Batman voice and absolutely no personality or charisma whatsoever (when Bale wanted to portray emotion, he yelled. A LOT. “I’M ACTING! I’M ACTING! I’M AN ACTOR!”).

And his wife? What was her name? I’m sorry, I don’t think she was name checked once. But whoever the hell she was, she and John had absolutely no chemistry, and she had no reason for being in this movie except to give you the impression that since she was pregnant it would be OK if Conner died, so you had a bit more suspense there at the end (honestly, I was secretly rooting for Conner’s death, if only because then maybe Bryce could have become the next awesome Mother of the Future in a Sarah Conner way and not a fucked up Padme way, tho honestly, I really can’t stand Bryce Dallas Howard and I have no fucking clue why she was cast in this movie. She acted with all the emotional power of a piece of blank cardboard).

The female characters in the movie are a BIG problem. James Cameron and Linda Hamilton set the bar for female heroines in this franchise, and directors have since gone backwards in their efforts to cast and portray female characters. I suspect this is largely because they felt that the only way to make John Conner awesome was to castrate all the women around him (freeing him from his perceived strong mother complex?). What they didn't fucking realize is that a guy who has a badass mother is going to surround himself with a lot of badass PEOPLE: this guy should have Gina Torres at his right hand. This is somebody who will naturally gravitate toward strong, kickass people, and many of those people will be women.

This is THE FUTURE, you fuckers. It’s a future full of badass people. Who else do you think would be left?

But instead of writing PEOPLE, the writers decided to write (and the directors decided to direct), WOMEN. WOMEN who wouldn't upstage Conner (first tip: surrounding a leader with strong people makes them stronger, not weaker).

What’s wrong with writing WOMEN as WOMEN, you may ask? After all, you don’t just want Conan with tits, do you? DO YOU??

Here’s what’s wrong:

When people who have a lot of preconceived notions about what a “woman,” is, about what “women,” can do, about why this character, in particular, is a “woman,” they’re more likely to write cliché women characters. They’re more likely to wax on and on about the character’s femininity, and take every opportunity to make it clear that THIS CHARACTER HAS TITS. Instead of, you know, writing a person.

Some of the great portrayals of great female heroines were parts originally written for men. This is largely because we all write with a misogynist bent, some of us more than others (you absorb this shit from you culture. Deal with it).

Note that Ripley in Alien was originally written as a man. Both female characters in Alien were originally written as men. The only change they made to the script was… well, it wasn’t. They just cast women for the roles and subbed pronouns. And why did they make this decision? Because the women’s movement was “really popular” at the time, and they figured it would sell more tickets to have more women in the movie.

What is it, exactly, that we figure will sell tickets these days? Not kickass female characters, apparently. Just women in leather who look good getting their asses kicked. The supposededly “tough” women in shows these days are all form, no substance. You can’t just put a chick in leather and hand her a knife. Recall Linda Hamilton’s arms. I BELIEVED she was a crazy psycho who could kick my ass.

I actually blame a lot of this form-over-substance change on Buffy. But that’s a rant for another time.

In any case, there are still a lot of writers who go out of their way to make sure we’re clear that the only reason the women are in the movie at all is *because* they’re women… not because they’re people.

So John Conner’s wife is pregnant (something only a woman can do). And Bloodgood’s character is 1) almost gangraped 2) cuddles up to and falls for the Terminator (both generally things that would only happen if the character was female. Far more transgressive would actually have been to write this as a part for a guy). At least the kid running around with Reese 1) had a useful 6th sense 2) knew how to properly load a gun 3) knew how to get her hands on lots of useful weapons and detonators. I guess that before you hit puberty, you're still allowed to be tough, because little girls are less scary that women with Linda Hamilton arms.

In fact, the one scene where we get to see a chick kicking ass… she’s saved by the Terminator. And even then, she doesn’t even hop back into the fight with him. She just lets him take over the whole fight, and doesn’t appear again until it’s all over, so she can shoot somebody (and puullleeeez, people: she’s been fighting machines for years, living as part of a rebellious underground, and she FORGETS HER GUN when she goes outside? Give me a fucking break. Folks who forget their weapons when they’re wandering around are just stupid, and wouldn’t have survived this long. Don’t insult me by making her stupid, too).

So, the female characters suck. Upshot would be that there were actually some faces (some with actual speaking parts!) that were non-white. At least there are black people, Asian people, and Other, in the future.

Though the Sarah Conners of the world all seem to have died off.

Apparently, the machines were smart enough to kill them off first.

These women were the biggest threat.

One For the Road

One For the Road

“You’re going to get this treatment your whole life. What are you going to do, stand up every time?”

Well... YEAH.

Good Reads

J. was out and about today, so I asked him to pick up a copy of Norse Code on the way home:



I'm already clipping through this one pretty quickly. I get the sense that it'll be inevitably (and favorably) compared to Neil Gaiman's American Gods.

Don't let the cover fool you. It's real urban fantasy, not vampire porn at all! Huzzah!!

Norming Disordered Living

Last night, I was telling J. about the leftovers in the fridge:

"There's chicken rollups and spicy coleslaw," I said, and opened my mouth to add, "Watch out for the cabbage, tho. There's more carbs in that than you think. Calculate at least 30 carbs for that."

I closed my mouth, amused at my own default.

At a certain point carb, insulin, and exercise math just becomes the norm. You do it in your head all the time. Every time I choose to eat something, I start doing the cost/benefit analysis in my head. Sometimes I'll even count out stuff on my fingers at the table.

I realized last night that it’s become so normed over the last three years to budget my carbs/insulin/expected activity level that my subconscious assumes, at some level, that that’s just a concern that *everybody* has.

It was an interesting example of how we unconsciously assume that our defaults must be the “norm.” Doesn’t everyone live like this? Doesn’t everyone want what I want? Doesn’t everyone hold the same values I hold? If they don’t HOW CAN THEY LIVE!?

After all, I couldn’t live without developing this disordered mode of living.

Oh Dear

Gods, why am I watching this show?

Podcast Previews

These will have proper homes on my web page, but here's what we're looking at now:

The Women of Our Occupation (with sound effects)
Genderbending at the Madhattered
If Women Do Fall They Lie
Wonder Maul Doll (will post after it comes out in this form in EscapePod)

First chapter of GW is taking some time to get right. Lots of voices in that one.

This is a Fine Cup of Coffee

Must be Sunday.


Also, sugar is wonky, but that's what I get for going to Denny's. Mmmm caffeinated coffeeeeee!

The Last King of Scotland

"We are not a game, Nicholas."

I am sad we had to have a white male protag to follow around in order to tell a black guy's story. The Ugandan doctor who saves his ass would have made a much better protagonist.

Forest Whitaker is amazing in this movie. It's worth every blessed penny to see him completely nail this performance of a man living on the edge of madness.

Women characters were marginal to the men's stories, and end up in refrigerators 50% of the time (I should say, story: it's still the white guy's story, and he's a really, really awful character), and as said, apparently white audiences aren't expected to show interest in stories about Ugandans unless a white person's involved, but it was a powerful film nonetheless. I'd put off watching it for a long time because I knew it was going to be a downer - what I didn't expect was how incredibly intense it was. Again, watching Whitaker zoom back and forth was phenomenal.

Highly recommended.

Three Extra Years

Yesterday marked the anniversary of my arrival in the ER in Chicago for what we'd later find out was severe DKA. My blood sugar was riding at about 860 (normal is 80). I don't remember must of this, as I was unconscious for the first 12 hours or so. A few things bleed through (someone asking me what day it was, discovering I had a catheter in was allowed to just pee in bed [this took some convincing on Jenn's part], being moved from one bed to another and wheeled into an elevator).

Oddly enough, this month also mark's J's one year cancer-free anniversary. So last night we went out to Pasha Grill, where we're quickly becoming regulars. We also stopped in and had a proper ring fitting at the jewelry store across the way. Due to the wackiness that is the publishing industry, I'll be getting a reasonable infusion of cash later this year. We'd only been putting off the inevitable for monetary reasons, and it looks like those are going to go away here pretty soon.

I feel immeasurably proud that book money has let me do things I wouldn't have been able to do otherwise, particularly because I was in such seriously bad shape the year before I sold the book. You don't always get everything you wanted - who doesn't want a six figure book contract and the ability to publish before they're 30? It would have been nice.

But I got *enough.* I got what I needed, and hopefully things will turn around pretty quickly and I can start building a future with short bursts of book money. That would be pretty sweet.

In any case, there is this thing that happens to you when you stare death in the face. Or, at least, it happened to me - and to J to some extent, tho he was always a far nicer person than me.

I wanted to start building toward things instead of running away from them. I ran all around the world. I ran away and away and away. But, you know, I can't run away from myself. At some point I had to turn around and go, "I'm a selfish asshole and a coward and I want to change that." I wasn't a great person. I hated what I'd become when the shit hit the fan. I didn't want to be that person anymore.

And it's been a long journey, trying to get better. Trying to get my priorities straight now that I get all these extra years of life. I've been ready for adult things for awhile now. Ready to build some wealth, buy a house, build a career. I've been doing all those things. But what I realized along the way was that my desire for a partner hadn't really gone away. I still wanted a best friend, a buddy, to have adventures with. I just wasn't adult enough to take care of myself - let alone somebody else. You're never going to find the right person if you're the one who's not right.

90% of everything is timing.

J. and I met a few months after he'd finished radiation therapy. I'd been single for about a year and had stopped seriously looking. We met for dinner because I thought he was terribly funny... and I wanted to talk to somebody else who'd stared death in the face.

Cancer had changed him, just like t1 changed me. He'd become less of a doormat, and I'd become less of a cruel-hearted harpy. We both still lean toward our defaults, which means that when we're together, we balance out pretty well. Love is all very well and good when it comes to relationships. I've loved people. I've had people love me. But... what's the quote? I read a quote from someone that said "real" love is when two people who've been heartbroken and know what they're getting into... get into it anyway. It's the courage love, not necessarily the screaming teenager love, where it's the first time you've ever felt this way and OMG if we aren't together we'll DIE!!

It's the same love, really, just made even more polished by the heat of heartache. I don't think I could have even walked into a jewelry shop and sized rings with *anybody* before having my heart broken. I'm surprised it took so many years to really, truly, get my heartbroken. But then, I'd spent years avoiding real attachment. It wasn't until after I got sick and went through the Jenn craziness that I realized all my walls - though vital to not getting hurt - weren't getting me what I wanted.

I needed some serious heartbreak.

Now I know what I'm getting into. And I'm jumping anyway. I like this future we're building. I like my life this way.

Will there be more heart ache? Probably. The other thing you realize when you're somebody with a chronic illness fixing to marry a cancer survivor is that the chances of death, disfigurement, and further disability are disproportionately high for the two of you.

I'm allowing myself to love somebody who could leave me - whether through death or something more mundane, like waning passion - and I'm terribly happy about it. I know all the risks involved in it. I know it could all end badly, horrifically, spectacularly, but I also know that the years we do get together will be pretty cool and fun. We're a team. We have each others' backs. And for the first time, I trust this, however naive it may appear.

I want a big, bold life.

It just so happens that I now have a buddy to live it with.

Waitress

I think this movie was supposed to be funny.

I found it absolutely terrifying. I felt uncomfortably nauseous the whole way through. I don't know that I've seen a movie that so... effectively portrays women as a slave class. No, I'm serious.

This one hit me personally hard. As somebody from a small town who dated somebody for three years who was a lot like the heroine's husband, it really hit home. And the fact that she has to rely on men to pull her out of it the whole way through. The idea that you have to be nice to assholes, to put up with abuse and bullshit just to survive... you have to smile and be nice and maybe when they die they'll leave you money!

Because in the end, what's the difference between running off with the doctor she's having an affair with and getting a check from some rich guy who treated people like crap? You're still getting ahead by serving (literally serving!) men. And not just decent guys, but fucking assholes. If I felt for one minute that anybody in this movie wasn't a total jerk, it wouldn't have been so bad, but here she is, faking her way through life, this perfect "yes sir," slave robot constantly judging her self worth by what men thought of her - and her pie.

God, it made me sick. It made me sicker still because I have this even more disturbing feeling that I was supposed to find this show absolutely hilarious.

The fucking pie contest was just a fucking afterthought montage shot, a given. Leaving her husband, in the end, was "easy." Winning the contest was "easy." There were all these hand wave easy outs for her in the end, after all this bullshit. It's like the end of Kill Bill 2 where she just sees her kid and it's all over. All is magically right with the world.

And it doesn't work that way. You have to trudge through a lot of bullshit. You're not standing up for yourself once. You do it again and again and again, every day, for the rest of your life. You have to change your entire life. Yes, kids can change your life. I get it. But having kids doesn't mean the rest of the world goes away. Far better would have been an ending where she *doesn't* like the kid, she *doesn't* get anybody's money, and she has to fight her way to the life she wants, tooth and nail, with the support of her friends.

That's real life. That's how people do it when they decide not to be slaves anymore. You don't just say to the guy once, "Hey, I'm not a slave!" It takes years of undoing.

Bah.

Star Trek

Oh Star Trek, I will forgive you these things, because you move so damn fast and your characters are so damn good.

This is a Star Trek remix, and it's wonderful. That said, here's what actively annnoyed me (noet these aren't plot points. I could give a crap about handwavey Star Trek plots. This is a soap opera in space):

1) Uhura should have totally decked one of the guys in the bar. With how awesomely they re-did her, I was actually surprised this didn't happen. Uhura is pretty awesome. It made me teary eyed to see how far she's come. That said:

2) She is one of three female characters. One of them dies, and it is kind of boring. The other is Kirk's mom, who has this ridiculous giving-birth-in-an-evacuation-shuttle scene. At least she didn't die. It reminded me of Padme. I grit my teeth and bore through the thing, cause I knew the rest of the movie would be awesome. As J. pointed out, in Star Trek the families come with the crew, so it was not ridiculous for her to be there, just a ridiculously laid out scene. Would have much preferred her in uniform being rushed to a shuttle where she *then* goes into labor. Also, cut the fucking com with her dying husband. That was overmuch for me, even in a Start Trek movie. I wanted her to firm up her jaw and accept the sacrifice, teary eyed but tough. It was a little smarmy for me.

3) Gods, why do they go on with the overlong creature chase and Scotty-in-the-pipes hijinks? These scenes are both about 2-3 minutes too long. Not 7 minutes too long thank god, but they're still running long for "wacky hijinks."

I am so happy these characters didn't suck. This was well written and very well executed. A perfect reboot. If they did this to every series they reboot, I'd be a lot happier with them. They didn't sacrifice the heart of the show for special effects, and they had a great team of actors. It is, effectively, a soap opera, and without those character quirks, tensions, relationships, unique skills, weaknesses, foibles, and snark, you've just got elves in space.

This is why Firefly was so loved: it's about building great characters and letting them run wild.

I didn't even pay attention to the absurdities of the plot until later, because I just didn't care. I loved the people.

At the end of the movie I thought, "Wow, Gene Roddenberry would have crapped his pants to see this."

Because it felt a lot more like what he was trying to do. It actually *felt* like a diverse cast. It felt more like the future. Hell, it felt more like *now* than most tv shows and their lily white cornbread casting. And yes, everyone is young and beautiful, and our two primary protagonists are still white and male, and we only have three female characters, one of whom dies, but:

It's come a long way.

Thank you for building a cast for Star Trek that doesn't suck. Now don't screw it up.

Money Shot:

"For some men, the only thing more intolerable than the sight of a powerful woman is the sight of a powerful woman they don’t want to sleep with."

Zing!

Runner up, from the end of the article:

"Still, nonsense about women, weight, and “health” is particularly pervasive and destructive. Indeed, if we were really concerned about medical risk factors that actually do have a significant negative correlation with a candidate’s life expectancy, the most relevant is one that has afflicted 108 of America’s 110 Supreme Court justices: being a man."

Srsly, Why Am I Deadlifting 125 lbs?

The sounds I make when I lift this weight are not sexy.

The work trainers have upped the ante for me this training round, as said a while back, which is nice. I'm feeling stronger, and I needed it: I put on about 6 lbs in 4 weeks when we moved into our new place (for some reason, the increased amount of sex does not even out the increased amount of eating out one encounters when cohabitating).

Things here are starting to fall into routine, tho, and the weight is slowly going back to normal (my goal, as ever, is to maintain my weight). I'm biking to work every day, hitting the gym twice a week, and maintaining my morning weight routine. I do need to get in two more days a week of regular structured exercise, and I'm working on that.

We're also cooking a lot to save money. J. is planning on returning to school properly next quarter, which means I'll be the breadwinner for a bit (student loans will help, too), so we're looking to cut costs across the board.

Concerns over my A1c has curbed my interest in those tasty English muffins with peanut butter at work ("But they're low(er) carb!" just isn't a great excuse when they wreck havoc on my blood sugar all day. But man, that's been a tough habit to crack. I tend to be really hungry when I get into work now that I'm biking in).

Last week was an awesome sugar week, in no small part because I snacked mainly on string cheese and peanuts and didn't bake any of my low-carb cookies. I don't know how other diabetics eat complex carbs regularly (OK, I don't know how they can eat them regularly and maintain A1c's below 6. My goal is 5.7-5.9. But then, I'm ambitious like that).

Good to be back at the gym *properly* as opposed to in a non-structured way. I'm much better with structure.

Off to eat some meatballs and asparagus. Mmmmm mmmmm.

Then, as ever, to write and write and write.

I have a lot of work to do this month.

Escape Pod

Just sold a story to EscapePod. For those who prefer to listen to their fiction instead of reading it, I'll let you know the day it's available for download.

Huzzah!

And Sometimes You Stand and Fight

A 17-year-old high school marching band student beat up two assailants who tried to mug her as she walked to school in this high desert community about 40 miles north of Los Angeles, sheriff's officials said Tuesday.

My martial arts teacher once said that the cowards are the ones who attack you from behind. This means that if you show any amount of backbone, they're more likely to back off than somebody who, say, punches you in the face. These are the sorts of people who are also less likely to be armed, which definately helped our heroine.

I would have liked a little more back story on this student, tho. I'm always interested in why some people fight back and some people don't (again, them not being armed and her knowing how to use a baton probably helped).