So. You Get Laid. Then What?

Ah, Vincent forwarded me a site to piss me off. Sweet boy.

This is a damn funny little site. Let's just say that up front. I was giggling much of the time. What wasn't so amusing was going to the sites' forums and watching boys trying to learn how to "treat women like bitches so they'll respect you" game.

For those who don't know it, here's an introduction to Ladder Theory:

Every time you meet someone (let's talk purely about hetero attraction here, and working on the assumption that when we meet someone, they're default "straight" if we're straight), you rate them based on their fuckability. That is, men rate women like this.

Every time a man meets a woman, he puts her on his fuckability ladder and rates her by how much he wants to have sex with her.

To sum up:

1. The people men really want, who may even be out of their league, are on top (celebrities, models, etc)
2. Then come the people men like (that hot cheerleader)
3. Moving further down men pass the people who men would fuck if they were intoxicated and would admit to doing it later (the fat funny chick)
4. At the bottom are the people men would fuck drunk, and would lie about doing it later (the ugly ho-bag who sucks off all the football players)

We’ve all been beaten over the head this again and again - men are ONLY looking to fuck anything that moves. Their penultimate goal is to move their fuckery "up the ladder" - so a man’s goal is to always be banging a hotter chick than the one he was banging the day before.

(For the record, I’ve never met a guy who was having sex with one woman one night and another woman the next night. Except for maybe one of the theatre slut-boys back in highschool. And he has since retired. I think he works at a gas station now.)

Fucking lots of women will get men status points (hence the “up the ladder” analogy). Will this mentality get him peace and prosperity? Well, not likely. But other guys'll wanna suck his dick too, cause he’s so cool.

To sum up: men rate women based on how fucking that woman will move them up in social status.

and women apparently rate men like this.

"The first thing to notice here is that a woman has not one, but two ladders. This is becasue in addition the normal ladder, a woman also has a friends ladder. The friends ladder is where a woman puts guys that she considers "just friends". More to the point where she puts guys who don't get to have sex with her."

Um. Yea.

“Well most guys know that women dig guys with money. Would Donald Trump be fucking models if he wasn't rich? That question is rhetorical. Now I don't even believe this is wrong, I think it is just nature. But I also think women who are this way (and it is almost all of you) should be honest and admit that they are basically whores, and stop saying bad things about the so-called "actual whores" who are just trying to earn an honest living.”

AGAHAGAGAagagahaahhahahaa

To sum up: women will only have sex with a guy they believe will increase their social status. Because a woman’s social status is measured differently than a man’s, she’ll be more likely to sleep with a rich or powerful man.

Do I even need to add that this theory was concocted by a bitter guy, so it's a little loopy? He's trying really hard to understand women, and why some women won't sleep with him, but will sleep with Outlaw Bikers and Rich Guys, hence the huge Money/Power pie piece in the women's attraction pie chart.

There's some problems with this. Let me suggest something.

Men are always on the lookout for the "hottest" chick, right? Sure. Let’s go with that myth. But let’s owe up to what being with the “hottest” chick is really about, OK? It’s not biology. Let’s stop right there. If it was about biology, a guy wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about who was on his arm, so long as it was female. If sex was really all about procreation (ha), then guys wouldn’t give a shit about who they were screwing so long as she had the requisite 35lbs of extra body fat for the production of children.

I’m sorry? What’s that, you say? Women can’t get pregnant unless they’ve got 10% body fat? What? But, if fat women are more fertile, shouldn’t fat women be “the hottest chick”?

Shhhhhhh! Don’t tell people that beauty is a cultural construct! Keep convincing people to feel bad about being attracted to “imperfect” people! If we tell them it’s OK to be attracted to the people they’re attracted to, everyone’s going to realize that they can get laid and have really warm, cozy partners without investing in cosmetics and plastic surgery, and then where would the economy be?

So a man wants to walk into a room with a "hot" chick on his arm. “Hot” meaning our conceptions of “hot” as illustrated by Britney Spear and her clones.

A man with a hot chick on his arm gets big Alpha Male status points. Screwing better-looking women has to do with status points, not the viability of his sperm in her body. This is social. Not biological. See above reasons.

In order to perpetuate this lurid cycle, women in our society still often grow up believing that their bodies are their ticket to success. If women are already good-looking and not so great in school, they learn that their best ticket out of Nowheresville is to attract a rich guy to support them. Or a powerful guy who can drive them out of Nowheresville. Hence the Outlaw Biker. So all of a woman’s time and energy goes into “perfecting” her body so she becomes the “hot chick” ideal.

Men are told to consider women just bodies, commodities (which is reinforced by talking with these "hot" women and discovering that in order to stay "hot" their main topics of conversation revolve around the associated obsessions: diet, manicures, and makeup), and men respond to women in kind.

Lovely little vicious circle, isn't it?

And I'd argue that it's NOT inherently "natural" or "the way things are" or that "all women are bitches" and "nice guys end up being a woman's intellectual whore." Our narrator enlightens us on how poor, defenseless men are being "used" by women as "intellectual whores":

"Later in life I started encountering a certain breed of woman. To begin with they never wanted to sleep with me. Now, this by itself is okay--not all women will want to sleep with me. However, this particular breed wanted to have me around to talk to and to make them laugh, because I was so "entertaining" and "funny." Some of them went so far as to describe our relationship as that of "friends", and a few even had the audacity to talk to me about problems they had with other guys."

There's some whoring in there. But not much intellectualism.

Our narrator also believes that women can't be intellectual whores, because no man would be crazy enough to talk to a girl who would never have sex with him. This is a boo-hoo why-won't-women-have-sex-with-me rant (cause you're an asshole?). Men apparently don't like to keep women around who they won't have sex with. So if a guy is hanging out with you but appears to be sexually uninterested, he's gay, find you repulsive and is sober, or he "has someone higher on the ladder already. If you haven't read the ladder theory, then if the guy thinks you are beneath him."

Now, I'm not going to argue against the idea that we often estimate our sexual chances and/or interest in someone when we first meet them. But I will argue that women are a lot more keen on sex than anybody gives us credit for, and all men aren't dumb enough to cast off female friendships just cause she says "no." The ones who are, of course, women are better off without.

The problem is, women have a lot of other factors going into the sex-or-no-sex decision besides money and power (damn, this guy loves that money and power thing. He must be a poor college student). And we have the big divider, which is why I think there's so much confusion over sex between the sexes -

Men learn that if a woman likes him, she'll have sex with him. Women learn that if a guy likes them, they'll talk to them and hang out with them. Guys are expected to have sex with anybody. It’s no compliment to a woman for a guy to want to have sex with you.

I'm going to repeat that: I find nothing flattering about a man's wanting to have sex with me. I don't gain any sense of personal pride or fulfillment having sex with a total stranger or somebody I don't really give a shit about.

But men are taught that getting into bed with a woman is akin to "winning" something. They "score". They're somehow more macho, better, more "manly" (whatever the hell that is), and a man's status will almost always go up when he gets laid (even if it's the fat funny chick - the shame comes when he tries to start a relationship with the fat chick, but I'll get to that in a minute). Whereas a woman's status is more likely to go down depending on the number and type of her sexual partners. Meaning she's going to be a lot more selective. Otherwise, she's a "whore" and do I even have to talk about all the negative connotations of that label? How it’ll likely open her up to sexual assault, et al? Women have to worry about getting pregnant, and how well their chosen partner will support that should the time come. We have to worry about guys running around starting rumors about us and trying to screw up our social status. Sex is fun. All types of it. Not just the penetrative kind. Women love sex. It’s great.

But we’ve got a shitload more on our shoulders than guys do.

Let's take, for example, me (I'm a bad example, but let's just go there). I'm bad at casual dating, so pretty much all of the guys I meet get automatically slapped into the "friends" pile or "one-night fuckable" pile (that is, he's damn hot but there's no way he would date me, but if I ever got him drunk and had the chance, I'd totally have sex with him, because even if he does like me and thinks I’m cool, I view myself as physically inferior, and he won’t be able to take me home to meet the friends and family without getting a negative social reaction).

As a general rule, guys stay in the friends pile until they start indicating an interest in me that's beyond "friends." Most guys don't bother, because I don't give them much to work with. For those who do, I'll either respond in kind, or give that "kiss of death" line - hey, you're cool, but let's just hang out.

Now, why would I say this? Does it mean I don't want to have sex with him?

Not neccessarily (though let's not be hasty - women have the "repulsive slob I wouldn't touch even when drunk" category too).

What it means is that I'm not interested in pursuing anything long-term with him. I don't have sex with men I'm not interested in hanging out with in the long term (generally - see my rules above). I'm very bad at not getting attached to people, which means I have trouble with casual sex, so I don't do it. You're my friend (we hang out and laugh and there's no sex) or my boyfriend (we hang out and laugh and there's sex). And, to bust down this bizarre myth people keep building up around men - another big reason I don't screw around casually with guys (particularly guy friends, unless they've become boyfriends, meaning I want to form a longer-term partnership) is that guys I get intimate with are often looking for some kind of longer-term commitment from me.

Whoa. Yea. Imagine that. Men who want to be in relationships. Shit, we better not talk about that. About how men's dependency on sex actually has a lot to say about weakness. If my identity was so integrally tied to having a bazillion of female sexual partners, I'd be a virulent misogynist too.

Huh. There's that circle again.

I'd like to come back to the intellectual whore idea. Ladder Theory posits that men really hate talking to women unless they're going to get laid. The woman has to "pay" for his attention by allowing him to penetrate her body.

WTF??? Can you say, fucked-up male assumption of privilege, much?

I love talking to all sorts of people I'm not having sex with. Most guys don't have sex with each other, but they talk all the time. And I sure as hell would find it offensive if every time somebody listened to me or read one of my books, they expected to be able to punch me in the eye without reprecussions.

So, can only a man be an intellectual whore? No. I've made a living out of it. And I know a bazillion women who do the same. They're the one the guy calls to get "female advice" about his girlfriend. They're the one they call when they're depressed, angry, envious, scared, and sometimes, when they feel sexually incompetent in bed and want advice. If I had to tell you the amount of times I had to listen to Hot Guy #4 tell me about his problems with his girlfriend, I'd be here all night.

Here's the deal about guys and dating. Because for some reason, this ladder thing doesn't talk about dating. Just fucking. Which is way, way easier and less complex. What I want to know is, after a guy get's laid, then what? You take your "getting laid" points and move on. While some girls have to freak out about who he's gonna tell, and does a one-night-stand make her slut, and if she's a slut, will anyone ever treat her like a real human being ever again?

This is shit women shouldn't have to worry about.

I learned the weird part of intellectual whoredom really early. In the 4th grade, I lusted (as much as a 4th grader can lust) after a beautiful Aryan boy who quite literally must have dated every girl in our fourth grade class but me. Though I wasn't so sure what "dating" meant to him, because he was spending all of his recess and class time talking to me about the stories I was writing. We talked about religion and Stephen King. When he broke up with his next girlfriend, I was twitter-paited, and stood expectantly waiting in the wings.

Instead, he chose the next chick on his list.

Why?

Cause I wasn't a "real girl." He wanted to out with a “chick.” With the “proper” sort of girl.

What, exactly, is a "fake" girl?

Fake girls are the girls you like but can't date. And - they're the boys you really like but can't date because you're afraid of what everyone else will think.

I was a chubby little dork with glasses. Aryan boys might like hanging out with me, but they can't show up to dinner parties with me. I chose not to mold my body into a commodity, and chose to be myself instead. I’ve spent twenty-four odd years working on the sorts of commodities that’ll last me past middle-age, not the ones I’ll have to mold with plastic surgery. In part, this is because I managed to get out of the “I view myself as a commodity” mode.

In any case, it was all for the best, because I would later learn that Aryans were pretty, but not very interesting (I, too, was locked into the "people I'm supposed to be attracted to" mentality), and have since come to terms with my personal desires, as already discussed.

But most people have a bitch of a time with it.

Guys get into trouble for going out with fat girls, or for actually caring about "sluts." And gals get razzed for hanging out with "losers" and "dorks." Or, say, for being attracted to guys who are smaller than they are.

The social harassment net is already in place.

So, listening to this guy bitch about his ladder theory and all the Hot Chicks who wouldn't fuck him, I could certainly sympathize. Men get points for # of fucks, not oozy-relationships, even if that's what they really want. So what do we have to hear about all the time from the monstrously masculine? How much they wanna fuck women. Stay home and masturbate then! If it's all about ejaculation, stay home and get off my fucking porch.

Unless. It's. Not. About. Merely. Getting. Off.

Oops. Did I write that?

It's about Alpha Points. And, I think, the stuff that men refuse to owe up to - they want to be wanted. A woman having sex with a man means she *must* like them. They receive validation in the bedroom. They feel like "real" men instead of boys or losers or dorks. They want to be touched. Is it ever meaningless sex?

But I also saw that our narrator didn't understand that women's choices about sex are much more constrained than men's, and that because of the different gendered weight given to sex, we just don't get all of the same things out of it that guys do. And let me be clear - I think guys are getting gyped with the whole "must have meaningless sex with as many women as possible" mentality, too. As a woman, why aren't I encouraged to collect men like postage stamps and use them to give myself a sense of confidence and power?

Cause then we'd have to start talking more about sex and power. Go run around those intellectual whore forums on this guys’ site, and you'll find men who believe that women are in charge of the world, that rape is a myth and all women use their sexuality to emasculate men. I'm not sure what statistics they've seen, but I know bitterness when I read it. Why is the number one question among men: how can I get this woman to fuck me? and the number one question among women: how can I get this man to like me?

Because, I think, we're talking about the same thing.

We want to be liked. And we've been given different standards for what that means. Men like the fucking thing because they believe it gives them control over women. Women like the "emotional tie" thing because they believe it gives them some modicum of control over men (and the sorts of rumors they'll spread outside the bedroom).

So, no. I don't think women and men have different ladders. I don't think all women are Evil Bitches and all men are Sluts.

I think we're a bunch of people who want to be liked, and we have no idea how to go about it because we're locked in the messages being pushed at people of our sex, and having trouble putting ourselves into the shoes of the other sex, and seeing what's being shoved into their faces about what "true masculinity" or being a "good woman" really means.

And I feel that bullshit pop-culture sites like this perpetuate the "men and women are soooooo different that they'll constantly and forever hate each other and not get along!" myth.

And they piss me off.

I Love Geeks

Oh, my geeks. Let me count the ways...

Continuing Worklife... And the Beat Goes On

At aforementioned lunch with boss, I was reassured that we're all sitting on our hands waiting for the FCC to approve the merger between Cingular and AT&T that went down earlier this year.

When that happens, telecommunications work should absolutely explode - next year is gonna be a bitch, and you better bet that I'm going to be asking for a raise. We're bidding on a ton of work, and as it's common knowledge that Cingular's going to be doing integration AND upgrading at the same time, I'll just point that out here. Read: LOTS OF WORK. Combine the Cingular sites with AT&T sites, and you get 30,000 cell phone tower sites ready for upgrading... and a bunch of smaller carriers in the wings who'll have to follow suit if they want to remain competitive.

So until the FCC approves the deal (and they have another 85 day period in which to do so), I will continue to remain here, sitting on my hands, reading, War in the Shadows: The Guerrilla in History, and writing novels.

And blogging.

It's a living.

The Karate Kid and the Rules of Attraction

So, writing what I write, and studying what I study, I'm often perplexed at the sorts of people I'm attracted to, and the one's I'm not (and I spend a good deal of time interrogating these desires or lack thereof). Over at Ex-Gay Watch, there's a post about "enraged ex-gays" who got pissed at Kerry's blip about Lynne Cheney being "born gay." I think the ex-gay movement is a load of puritanical, totalitarian crap, so I haven't bothered ranting about it (really. There's just no need). But today I found that one of the advocates of "altering behavior" has this to say:

"We all have a choice to do what is best, and with regard to acting on my homosexual feelings and inclinations, I did not choose God's best for me or for society when I chose to act upon them," Chambers wrote. "However, I did finally choose to live beyond those feelings and today I am not a homosexual nor am I tempted to be one."

Notice he doesn't say "my homosexual feelings and inclinations have gone away!" nor does he say, "I find women irresistably sexually attractive!" He says he's stopped "acting" on his desires. Which, of course, we can all do.

We can stop eating food, too, and starve ourselves. Doesn't mean it's good for us.

Coercing people into relationships with people they aren't attracted to is grotesque. And it's horrible to be the poor, dumb "quick fix" woman or man who gets to be in a relationship with somebody who isn't attracted to them in the least. That's not fair to you. And sure as hell ain't fair to them.

Having spent far more time outside of sexual relationships than within them, I've had lots of time to interrogate my sexuality. Being in my early 20s is about the right time for that sort of searching. I started to pay more attention to who I was attracted to, and when, and I noticed that I was attracted to certain types of people, and - in particular - certain physical types of men. I was also able to acknowledge the fact that, yes, on occasion, I found myself twitter-paited over boyish girls - I once had to get off the train a stop early because I couldn't stop staring at a short-haired female cello player who couldn't have been 20. It doesn't happen often, but it's neat when it does, and I've learned to owe up to it and say, "Well, that's human sexuality for you." And move on. My wandering gaze still falls on boys 98% of the time, and I identify as being hetero (see why I hate all these labels?). The intensity of my attraction for certain boys is one I oftentimes find staggering.

My own personal angst, however, is that I always feel I'm not attracted to the "right" type of boys.

Ah. You're expecting to hear that I like bad boys, right? Big, brutish, dangerous men with tattoos and prison records?

Uh. No.

My father's biggest grumble about my choices was this: "When are you going to bring home a Real Man?"

My boss is a former football player - 6ft tall, 230lbs - and attractive in a corn-fed, Midwestern football player way. He's funny, nice, simple, polite, and easy going. He makes oodles of money, isn't yet 35, and owns three houses. And I sat at lunch with him the other day and pondered for the dozenth time, "Why aren't I attracted to this guy?"

I ask myself this question a lot, because Blaine's the sort of guy I could see my dad gleefully fawning over.

But the guy just doesn't do it for me. In the least.

What are these "non" men that my wandering gaze locks onto, these strange "non" men who I long to take home and tumble into bed?

Oh, they're the scrawny dorks.

The tall and skinny guys, or the short and stocky guys. The nerdy little guys with the PhDs and glasses. All those guys who got beat up in highschool. Little guys who read books. I'm even quite partial to men several years younger than me.

Perish the thought.

I picked up The Karate Kid last night, feeling some 80s nostalgia, and thought, "Hot damn, I would have loved to date that kid when I was 16! Why isn't it totally obvious to him that Elizabeth Shue is totally hot on him?"

And I realized just how crappy Hollywood movies have become with their portrayal of plastic people who all look the same. Early on in the movie I caught myself thinking in an offhand way, "Man, Elizabeth Shue is looking kinda chunky, and that kid's a total cutie, but should he really be *so* skinny for this movie? I mean, he *is* the male lead."

I jerked myself out of this reverie and realized what I was doing. 90s beauty standards on an 80s movie - Elizabeth Shue isn't bigger than a size 6, and Ralph is totally the guy I was crazy about in high school and was terrified to approach because I always outweighed him by 40 or 50lbs. What 90s movie blockbuster pairs a wimpy-looking boy hero with a normal-weight female lead?

I mean, besides Titanic.

Come to think of it, Titanic exploded at the box office. But I digress. That rant is for another day.

Instead, what I'm getting fed from the media are the sorts of boys I'm *supposed* to find attractive. Like Russell Crow and Ben Affleck (yuck and double yuck). Get me Christian Bale and Orlando.

Actually. No. Stop there. Before I get carried away.

Those boys don't have grad degrees. I wonder what they read? Does Bale wear glasses? I know they've got acting passion, but how big are their home libraries? (books, not movies)

These are very important attraction coupons.

Oh. But. Well. There's still that image problem. The image problem being the Sex in the City monstrous dimorphism of the sexes thing.

I definately outweigh Orlando, and Bale's gotten emaciated to the point where I refuse to watch his concentration-camp chic in The Machinist.

Women are small and thin. Men are tall, butch (or fem gay), and broad-shouldered. Very rarely will you catch a male/female of the same height (and rare-to-never will she be taller than him, unless it's played for comedy), and never-ever-ever will you see a woman paired with a man she outweighs. Ever.

In real life, however...

Being a media whore who's very plugged into media images via movies and internet (not a big tv fan, as I glut out on it pretty easily), I'm well aware of the sorts of men I should be attracted to. And after a lot of stupid first dates and some awful second and third dates, I've also come to the conclusion that I'm not attracted to those sorts of men.

Lucky for me, nobody's interpreted a Bible passage that says I can only be attracted to big butch guys who manage their lives around football.

Very lucky for me indeed.

Granted, they've found one that says I should be my husband's property.

But again, I digress.

I certainly could have sex with someone I wasn't really attracted to. I could hop into bed with him. I could have kids with him. I might even have affection for him. Sure, sex would always be a chore. Sure, I'd never get that gut-warming physical spike of desire, let alone the insatiable I MUST HAVE YOU NOW!! kind when I was with him. And sure, I would always be reaching out toward other people, perpetually thwarted, with no hope for release.

But hey, it'd look good on TV right? I'd drop down to 130lbs and turn into an obsessive-compulsive, he'd go to the gym to bulk up every day, and we'd eat raw eggs. I'd dress in spangly dresses and high heels and he'd wear an Armani suit and keep his hair short, and we'd pose for pictures, and everybody at dinner parties would sigh over us and our visual sexual perfection. You could put a picture of us on billboards and announce to all those struggling men and women out there, "You too can find the person our society most deems fit for you to be paired with!"

We could even start a series of workshops teaching women and men how to be attracted to properly proportioned partners. Oops. Wait. We already do that. There are thousands of self-help books about just that. And blah blah blah, like forming this mystical perfect couples for family photos is the be-all and end-all of existence. We'd continue to teach women to be smaller, and stigmatize them if they're not, and we'd continue to teach men to be bigger and angrier and more "dominant" (read: abusive/controlling). Because we all have to fit into our little crappy boxes.

Not attracted to the person everyone else thinks you should be?

Too bad for you. You get to be celibate for the rest of your life.

I expect my government to stay out of *my* bedroom when there are consenting adults involved. And they should stay out of everybody else's.

Tomorrow, they're going to be choosing your partners for you.

And that's not the country I signed up for.

What's Up With The Writing Life

Spent this weekend doing worldbuilding work and boning up on my war reading. Book 2 of the fantasy saga (Over Burning Cities) has got some serious invasions coming up, and I'm pitting two war commanders against one another who're both supposed to be really good. This means I need a better handle on each army's composition and logistics, and I'm stealing battle plans and maneuvers - because good writers steal.

I've decided to work through the H-War reading list (I've just subscribed to the H-War discussion list - hell, I'm on a South African history discussion list and a SF/F feminist fiction list, why not one more?), as I was only able to cross out a handful of general books and my goodie Alexander books (because, as previously ranted about, they don't have any book about war and women, or war and constructions of masculinity or war and... you get the idea). Research means Saturdays at the library, and there's something great about being back in research mode. I've been so busy trying to make ends meet this year (you know - affording food, housing), that I haven't set aside much research time outside of the internet. I love it. I'm allowing myself two more days of prep time for Jihad, and then I've got a really strict writing schedule until February.

Busy winter months coming up.

In other news, I'm stuck at 3 MA classes a week instead of 4. The week before last, I had a hacking cough and thought I was gonna die, so I did 3 days (up from 2 days) and took Thursday off to go straight home and sleep. Last week, my Wednesday class left me so tired and sore the next day that I once again opted to go straight home and sleep. Yea, I realize it probably makes more sense to work up gradually - two days a week to three, do three days for a couple months, then move to four - but you know, I'm ambitious. And there's only a two-days-a-week rate and an "unlimited classes" rate, and you know, I figure I'm paying out the ass for this already - I should be getting my money's worth.

Oh, and I picked up a new pair of jeans yesterday, and I can officially say that I've dropped two very neccessary sizes this year, getting me back to a very reasonable pre-South Africa size that's quite comfortable. Because I'm looking to increase my fighting mobility, I'd like to drop another 2 sizes over the next year - and then I'm done. No way am I getting smaller than that. If that happens, I'm upping my calorie count.

I have such a funny fear of fading away. I quite enjoy radiating intimidating amounts of fleshy health.

Whu-pah.

Linkage

Ok. You've read the transcript. Now you have to see the video clip of Jon Stewart kicking Crossfire's ass. It's amazing. Truly. The sad part? They could have taken him up on his rant. They could have spent the whole half hour talking about media integrity and theatre - instead, the hosts tried very hard to make Stewart be "funny." Stewart realized he was on CNN - not Comedy Central - but Crossfire was hosting an entertainment show, not news. It's cool to see the way Stewart chose to play it - a lot of lines that you read as being "funny" in the transcript had some dead-pan delivery. Great stuff.

And, for your continued mixed-bag enjoyment, check out this stellar BORG My Little Pony. It so totally rocks. I'm so going to commission one of these things once I've got a real house. Check out the abode of the MLP customizer here.

And, for those tired of the same-old-pumpkin this year (I carved Pumpkin the Mighty this weekend), check out these Xtreme pumpkins and hack, drown, dress, and roll over this year's Great Pumpkin.

Latest Book

Next book, working title JIHAD

About 80,000 words

Part One – November 20th
Part Two – December 20th
Part Three – January 20th

Complete Draft 1: February 1st

Overview (very, very tentative)

Nasheen is a society that violently emerged from a strictly conservative Judeo-Christian sort of religious background that had brutal social rules regarding the roles of the sexes. Some deserts and ancient runes and irrigation canals and etc. Magic was always taught according to what practices were appropriate for each sex. Hermaphrodites were considered abominations, homosexuality was outlawed and punishable by death, adultery was a crime punishable by death, women walked around in purdah and weren’t permitted leave the house without a male escort, polygamy was the practice of the day, prayer occurred six times every day, and everyone lived by strict adherence to the authority of a prophet/monarch. This all went to hell when the war between Nasheen and its neighbor, Chenja, became desperate.

Most of the men were dead and famine was coming. The government and prophet/monarch were corrupt. Women took the lead and trained for the frontlines. They worked as guerilla fighters, left children and old women at home to care for younger children and work in the fields, and managed to hold the border mostly on their own. They had to start learning magic relegated to the opposite sex, and with the help of a very talented and charismatic woman named Neive, they managed to gain some ground.

Religious texts began to be interpreted more and more liberally in order to allow for this dramatic and necessary change, women began stepping up into government positions left open by husbands and brothers, and when the girls left at home got into their teens, they got interested in politics, banded together with some of the pissed-off soldiers who blamed the prophet for the death of their comrades, husbands, sons, and mothers, and stormed the palace and tore the prophet apart.

Neive was elected hereditary monarch, and her female descendents ruled until just recently, when no female heir was available, and a son married a woman from neighboring Ras Tieg. 220 years after that uprising, the war is still on, technology is advancing at a surprisingly clipped rate, the same kinds of magic are now taught to both sexes, men are still dying on the front (which also keeps their numbers down), and women make up about ¾ of all of the government positions. The monarch is called a queen, but she acts in the capacity of a sort of hereditary president who’s got veto power over the main government body.

We’ve got trains, bug tech (which includes a sort of radio technology), opium, guns, prayer, rampant racism, magic illusions and trap castings (with some ball lightning thrown in), alchemy, a couple of cults, and the beginnings of photography technology (which is rapidly replacing organic bug castings, which die).

Enter our plotline. Queen Nasyaan - the daughter of the Ras Tieg Queen and the male heir to the Nasheen monarchy - puts a bounty on the head of her brother, who killed their mother (the Queen from Ras Tieg had abdicated just months before). Nasyaan offers a lordship (or whatever) and a big pile of money to whoever brings him back. More money if he’s alive, but dead will do. His name’s Rasheen, and he’s headed into their sworn enemy state, Chenja.

Enter our characters. We’ve got Nyx, whose brothers have been killed in the war, and she’s gotten cynical about life and politics, so she went into bounty hunting. She’s got no skill in magic at all, but she’s smart and a good fighter. Having no magic, she’s had to assemble a team. There’s Rhys (the geeky nerd-boy of the operation), who’s from Chenja, Anneke the martial artist (who acts as the Firefly Jayne character – the muscle), Kos (the magic-user) whose from a southern country called Mors where the sexes are still divided due to magic and religious prescriptions - he fled because he’s a flaming heterosexual - and Taite (also from Nasheen), who’s in charge of gear, logistics and communications.

Nyx and Rhys have got the sexual tension thing going – he’s from Chenja, the sworn enemy of Nasheen, (classic) and she’s vowed never to “sleep with the help” though she hops into bed with people of both sexes over the course of the book. She’s also got some serious racism issues to deal with in regards to Chenjans, and him being one in her face all the time is great. Anneke and Kos hate each other and argue all the time, but they have tension in a Zezili-vs.-Nathan (in book 2 of the fantasy saga, which I'm writing concurrently) sort of way, in that their arguments are going to bite and snip all the way through and then ¾ through the book they both look at each other sideways.

Kos and Taite are great buddies, with a brotherly loyalty that might make for one of the strongest relationships in the book. They boast to one another about their sexual misadventures – Kos’s about women, Taite’s about men. Nyx met Kos in a brothel, where they both slept with the same woman (though not at the same time). Nyx doesn’t much like Anneke’s violent tendencies, and doesn’t trust her, because Anneke worked for and betrayed one of Nyx’s rival bounty hunters, but Anneke’s too great an asset to push out. Taite used to work for Raine, Nyx’s current bounty-hunting rival, and dropped Raine to work for her after meeting Kos in a bar and being recruited for his skill in communications. Taite doesn’t much care for Anneke because of her rivalry with Kos, but he and Nyx are close. At some point, Anneke and Rhys are probably going to sleep together.

Nyx and co. take the Queen’s offer and go after Rasheem into Chenja, there’s lots of fights, interrogations, kidnappings, betrayals, a rival bounty hunter named Raine, some literal backstabbing, and an open ending that gives us character arcs and an insight into just what it is that fuels the war between the states, but leaves potential for further stories - if anyone asks for another book.

I've got a good five-page plot point overview and shorter three-part breakdown. Currently working on a chapter-by-chapter breakdown. Ideally, I'd like to try something diff't this time in that I'd like to, you know, PLOT my book out. I'm tired of spending 6 months writing a book and two years rewriting. Drives me fucking nuts.

So. To work. See you all on Monday.

Mixed Nuts

Historical SF: What if Bush had won the 2000 Election (it's crazy thought, I know!)

Cheney announces that if John Kerry wins the election, Cheney will attack the country himself!! Muwahahahaaa

Check out this great anti-Harry Potter documentary! That's right! If your kids read Harry Potter, they'll start practicing witch craft! Wheee! Somebody paid money to produce this video.

All via Jenn.

LESBIANS, I TELL YOU! THERE ARE LESBIANS IN THE WORLD! FLEE IN TERROR!

Great Salon article about the Republican freak-out about the dreaded "L" word. Our big problem is that calling somebody "lesbian" is still seen as an insult, particularly in straight bars and on grade-school playgrounds and high school locker rooms.

Lesbian isn't a curse word. It's a word used to describe a woman's sexuality. And you better bet that if you're in a political party where you want to deny the rights of US citizens based on who they're going to bed with, everybody's gonna start pointing to all of the people you and yours are going to bed with. Because *you've* made it a political issue. You're saying you'd DENY YOUR OWN DAUGHTER EQUAL RIGHTS AND PROTECTION UNDER THE LAW FROM HATE CRIMES. And it's about time we stopped saying "they" when we talk about "those gay people" and how "we" should "give" or "take" away "their" rights.

Lesbians are people too. I'll repeat that, because Republicans seem confused: LESBIANS ARE PEOPLE TOO. Oh, yes. And US citizens. When we say "America" and "us" we're talking about everybody. Not just the straight white guys. "We" go to bed with all sorts of people, in all sorts of interesting ways. "We" can all vote.

"We" are America. Get over it.

I hate to break it to you all: Lesbian isn't a dirty word. There are, indeed, quite a number of women who enjoy going to bed with other women. In fact, there are a lot of women who aren't sexually attracted to men at all. Yea. Really. I know, I know, this may come as a shock. In fact, these women are so strange... they may even fall in love with other women! Dear lord! And create happy little couples (or. Ahem. Perhaps more than a couple). Happy! Imagine it! Happy women! Happy, happy women! Dear lord in heaven!

Here's what's really fucked up:

"Once you're happily out of the closet a few years, you don't bat an eye at someone hearing you're gay. Even on national television. Even if your father's the vice president. (Especially if your father's the vice president -- don't you think she's used to it by now?)

What rips your heart out is when someone close to you denies your sexuality in public. Or shudders at the mention of it, so you can see how desperately they want to.

It may sound like a subtle implication to a straight person -- clearly it does; even the most liberal straight pundits appear oblivious to it -- but a gay person hears it scream out loud and clear. You people still feel there's something to be ashamed of here.

One of the happiest days of my life came when one of the old ladies at my mom's Catholic bridge club mentioned what a nice young husband I'd make. My mother, in her 60s by then, laughed it off. "I don't think that's going to happen," she said. "He's gay."

I was stunned when I heard the story. It had taken her years to get to that point. And it meant everything to me. She didn't care what the bridge ladies thought. She cared more about me.

I doubt very much that Mary Cheney gives a rat's ass if some church lady in Idaho knows she's gay. But her mother cringing at the church lady knowing -- that's gotta hurt like hell. "

Today's Alaska Pic

Today's a serious writing day, so unless the world explodes, I'll be leaving you with this:



And for the record, no: I didn't watch the debates. I already know who I have to vote for. And these guys are getting exhausting.

Lessons for Us, My Chiklits

And, as a perfect follow-up to that previous post, what happens when I try and subsist on 1500 calories a day and then walk into my 3rd MA class in a row, forgetting my 6pm protein bar at work --

I lumber through my class and nearly pass out.

Ten minutes from the end, I was ready to just fucking bow out my lame, shaky ass. Between boxing rounds, we were doing wall squats and plank positions, and I just blanked out into la-la land.

I've been trying to lean up my calorie count to speed up the condensing process, as I'll be traveling back to BG for the holidays, and we count coup based on weight in my family.

Oh well. I'll have to settle for the long, hard road.

Beer and pizza for everyone this weekend!

This Week's Eating Regimen

Because I'm an obsessed American woman who should be spending all of this mental energy working toward a Ph.D.... here I am cataloguing this week's meal plan.

6am: protein shake (half banana, four strawberries, half a cup of milk)

10:30am: string cheese
handful of mixed nuts

1pm: half cup mixed rice and veggies with pork
string cheese

3:30pm: protein bar
handful of mixed nuts

6pm: protein bar

8:30pm: 2 scrambled eggs with mixed veggies

I'm *so* eating bread products and drinking beer this weekend.

Four martial arts classes this week (about 50 min of hard exercise per day)
Five afternoons a week: half-hour walk at Forest Preserve at lunch
Five mornings a week of 20 min. stretching and 30lb free weight reps
About an hour a day of train-walking time, five days a week

I'm *so* NOT jogging this weekend.

This is getting ridiculous.

But I'm getting pretty buff.

Not thin. Buff.

And really, what more could a girl want?

Jib Jab Again

Jib Jab's got another parody up. Not as good as the first one, and I agree that it's moving toward the homophobic. One gay joke is funny - making the entire peice a gay joke is pushing it.

Take some lessons from South Park - discriminate against everyone equally: it's a lot funnier.

Debate Prep

Debate Prep: Shamlessly stolen from Jesus' General

-----------
DEBATE PREP

We have to be on our toes for tonight's debate. It's very probable that Our Furious Leader will go into a violent fit of rage, pull a piece from his waistband, and shoot Bob Schieffer. We can't prevent it from happening--killing is how Our Leader deals with frustration. We can, however, try to put a positive spin on it. I've created the following talking points to help you do just that...

*Sure, Our Leader killed a respected journalist on national TV, but Kerry forgot Poland. The liberal media is showing its bias by not reporting that too.

*Did you see that perfect military style shooting stance?

*Hey, didn't the terrorist threat level just go to red?

*Schieffer is a French name, isn't it?

*Our Leader isn't afraid to exercise his God-given Second Amendment rights on the campaign trail.

*Klinton did it with the pipe wrench in the billiard room.

*He's going to lower your taxes!

*OK, so Schieffer didn't actually have weapons of mass destruction program related activities stuffed in his sock. He was thinking about getting them.
------

The Labyrinth is Out

No, I haven't read it yet, but Catherynn M. Valente's The Labyrinth is out, and it looks hellacool. I get paid on Friday....

From Publishers Weekly
In Valente's surreal, image-driven first novel, centered on the Greek myth of the Minotaur, a female Theseus details the bizarre landscape of the Minotaur's maze and its unique flora and fauna. These include a wisdom-dispensing monkey guide, a mystery-solving "Meaningful Lobster" straight out of Lewis Carroll and numerous other creatures who evoke works of classic fantasy and mythology. The pursuing entities in the claustrophobic maze-world are not the bull-headed monsters of legend but doorways to other dimensions, which the characters spend much of their time avoiding. Most of the action is internal, as characters swap life stories, exchange experiences and try to solve their way out of puzzles philosophically. The author's poetic prose simmers with paraphrases from Blake, Milton, Shakespeare and other literary heavyweights, and this often gives her descriptions stimulating depth and richness. Sometimes, though, her sentences groan under the weight of images awkwardly layered and fused to express the unique chaos of this private universe. Readers who luxuriate in the telling of a tale and savor phrases where every word has significance will enjoy the challenge of this fantasy. Others may find its maze of language an impenetrable mystery.

A Mixed Bag

Had a pretty good boxing class last night, and met Sifu Dino for the first time. He generally teaches on Tues. and Thurs. but he was out last week, so I didn't bump into him (last week was the first time I was doing classes in addition to my usual Mon/Weds). He seems cool, very loud and high energy, really likes what he does. He and Sifu Katalin played tag-team with the two classes going on simultaneously - Boxing and Krav Maga - which meant you got to work with both of them no matter what class you took, which was... different. Not so structured, but in a good way, cause it kept you on your toes.

In other news, I've been shrugging off the whole "Does Bush Wear a Wire?" internet debate because I thought it was a lot of smoke and mirror lefties snickering at each other. Then I caught this article on Salon.com, and I'm thinking I may be one of the clueless hookwinked. Bush apparently has a lot of problems with telepromters (he's dyslexic), and this sort of push-to-talk system would have been a great tool to use on the campaign trail. My thoughts are thus: if the pres. *does* wear a transciever so he can be in constant contact with the secret service, why didn't the White House just say so? If that's all it was, there wouldn't be anything to hide. Same as if it's some sort of weird bullet-proof vest of some kind. You'd owe up to it. Stop the controversy. Instead, they're flat out saying it's absolutely nothing, and we're all freak shows. The more you don't owe up to shit, the more conspiracy theories. Just tell is straight, folks. Oh. I forgot. That's not how you run a White House...

And, to keep you pissed off - voter fraud in Las Vegas. Of course. Aimed at Democrats. Of Course. Think you're registered? Think again! (you know, when I filled out my registration form, I wrote in "Independent." I thought that was really fucking conspiracy-theory cyncical, at the time). Did I need to mention that Nevada's a swing state?

And, to further baffle you with my mixed link bag o' goodness, I just had to include this.

For the record, no, I have no idea what the hell the brown teeth things are supposed to be: vagina dentate? (update: I have since been told that they are domokun)

via Pinko Feminist Hellcat

War Doesn't Work Without Women

My buddy Jenn forwarded me a reading list for Duke University's military history majors and minors. To be fair, this was a reading list compiled in 1995, and the note at the top says the instructor was compiling a 1999 list, but I can't find it, and h-net (a big history geeks list) is still toting this a great recommended reading list for military history (ie History of War and Warfare).

What bugs me about such a great, comprehensive list?

Oh. The "comprehensive" part.

There are 100 books on this list. Their topics cover a time period of about 5,000 years or so.

1) Not one book's major topic is the gendered nature of war/masculinity building/rite of passage of war (Barbara Ehrenreich, Blood Rites, would be a great pick for this, though other do very well).

2) Not one book's major topic is women's roles in warfare (supporting/promotion of - there are about a bazillion of these books, particularly covering WWI and WWII). Think supporting roles aren't a viable part of "military history"? Bullshit. Every heard of "logistics"?

3) Not one book covers women's participation in violent combat as guerilla fighters, in, say, Vietnam, and my area of interest - Southern Africa (Cock, Jacklyn. Colonels and Cadres: War and Gender in South Africa. New York, Oxford University Press, 1991 - among many others. Unfortunately, my biblio isn't online). In fact, not much is said about the military history of Africa at all.

4) Unless initials are hiding gender, not one book of the 100 is written by a woman. I'd bet not one is written by anybody whose skin darkens much past tawny, either.

This shit really bugs me. Why does it really bug me? Because once I got into my women-and-war Master's thesis and subsequent book research for future projects and personal interest, I felt really ripped off. I honestly thought there weren't many women warriors at all, that women had always been kinda suckered into being couriers and damsels-in-distress. Seriously, I really thought this. Sure, you had all those Mythical women from Ancient Times, but what did we know about them, really?

Then I started reading all these books. I started reading about all these women who not only defended hearth and home during those times when men went out to kill each other and other women, but women who crossdressed and joined up - or didn't hide their sex at all, but were so damn good nobody cared what sex they were. I read about women passing out white feathers to men who didn't enlist in WWI - shaming men into heading off to war. Women who did all the laundry, cooked all the meals, cleaned the guns, brought ammo to the front, nursed the wounded, and yes, even picked up guns and fought for their damn lives, because that's what people do when they're at war. WAR DOES NOT WORK WITHOUT WOMEN. Women must support the war and soldiers. They have to maintain homes. They have to take up arms. They have to burn fields and farms when the enemy gets in. If women don't support war, wars don't happen. They can physically pick up a gun or not, and sure, war will march on, but UNLESS WOMEN ARE SUPPORTING WAR, IT CAN'T HAPPEN.

In our country, WOMEN HAVE TO VOTE for war. We make up 51% of the population. Yea, yea, patriarchal society and all that. Maybe if we weren't so concerned with how skinny we could be today, we'd be more interested in politics. Wouldn't that be amazing?

Hence, the popularity of Lysistrata. Still. Thousands of years later. It's a comedy, sure - but I think it's using the sex so it doesn't have to say just *how* important women's continued involvment in and support of war keeps the machine running. Women in some societies have kicked men out of the house for not fighting, for being cowards. Women have killed and butchered bodies. Women have always fought, and have always supported men fighting. They had to. Because if they hadn't, there wouldn't be wars. They would have stopped. 49% of the population CANNOT continue to fight without the support of the other 51%. That's just simple numbers.

Is war primarily a male sport? You betcha. That's why there's so many books on it. Yet here we've got a list of 100 books about men carving people up, and not one of them explores *why*. Why primarily men? And if it's so inherently male, why do women fight? Why can they be just as brutal - or more so? Because women are people too? And why are some men so terribly bad at fighting? Why is there an entire coercive system in place socializing men to fight? Not one book addresses that. The list makes assumptions. The list is "specialized" enough to add a book about the history of the US Marines, but one book about female guerilla fighters is just too much. Apparently.

I feel ripped off. And I have a feeling a lot of other women who start in on all this "alternate" or "specialized" reading about what the hell the other half of the world does during a war (when they're not getting raped and killed - our assumed default role) are gonna be pretty pissed off, too.

This One's A Winner

I admit it - this one's from a wacky little nut (anti-semitic, too?), but it deeply amuses me. Can't you just see it?

We're not at war! We're supporting Israel's fight against terrorism!

I kept wondering how on earth we were going to figure out how to go to war with Iran. I mean, hell, throw in another shitty desert country. This is a fun little test-run scenerio, don't you think?

Why are we going to war with the Middle East? Cause Bush slept through four years of college and doesn't know who finally got their asses handed back to them in the Crusades.

Another Great Electoral Map

Here's another great electoral map, this one is running data based on the day's current polls. It's cool.

Kerry was at 280 to 254 yesterday, down today 260 to 274.

Fun to watch.

More On How Geeks Get Through It

Had an exhausting class last night - Mondays are always a bitch, because I'm coming back to it after a break.

We were doing the classic Monday cardio and technique class, three minutes of jump roping, then three minutes of bag work, one two, one two, then some pushups, back to ropes and bags, then pushups again, then, dear lord, we're jump roping again, and then - 100 punches, GO!

Toward the end, I was keeping myself afloat by imagining that each time I jumped over the rope, I was jumping over a sword. I pictured one of the heroines from the first book I tried to sell a couple years ago - a sandfighter named Nalah - hopping over her teacher's sword in the desert, again and again and again as her mentor taught her to jump over low sword swipes. I tried closing my eyes while jump roping, but that was a no-go. It fucked with my balance, and I almost keeled over.

Sword swipe. Jump. Jump. Again. Jump. Jump. Keep going. Jump. Jump. She'll take your legs off. Jump.

I'm reading this really stupid fantasy book. Jump. Jump. And there's this male hero who supposedly keeps himself in really good shape so he can act as a sexy consort in this sendentary royal court. Jump. Jump. But there's never any scenes with him, like, exercising. Jump. Jump. Or sweating outside of bed. Jump. Jump.

Why don't we see the hard fucking work? Outside of bed?

Jump. Jump.

Fiction writers are lazy. You teach people that being wicked tough is either really easy or some kind of sexy birthright.

Fuckers.

Jump. Jump. Oop. Bag work time.

ONE HUNDRED PUNCHES. GO!

Fuck.

Stolen Words

I stumbled on this over at Hugo's place. It's by Sharon Olds, and after reading this, I'll be picking up some of her stuff.

Just beautiful.

Sex Without Love

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health--just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

Interactive Election Map

Run your own Test Election.

This Electoral College crap has got to go.

Via jed

Fuck You All - I'm Eating a Bagel

Is it really neccessary to bring *more* food into a workplace where we all sit on our asses all day and read blogs and check our email incessently?

Oh, fuck it. I've got kickboxing four days this week. I'm eating another bagel.

Bastards.

Ah, Young Love

Amanda's picking apart our trusty MSN advice columns again. This time, MSN is trying to aid those poor, poor middle-aged men seeking 18-year-old sweethearts.

Poor, poor boys.

---

William, 45, has always dated younger women. It was only recently, however, that he detected a pattern in those relationships. “I end up raising them — helping them solve their problems, grow up and expand their horizons,” he says.

Indeed, it is a lot of work helping your love select what college she wants to go to, especially if that means she might be moving away.

On the most obvious level, there’s that fun, young energy they have. There’s naiveté, which can be attractive when compared with the cynicism of some older women.

Remember how your ex-wife used to correct you when you made mistakes? "Oh no, honey, that's not Cary Grant, that's William Holden." Cynical bitch. When you're dating Bambi, you can tell her the moon is made of green cheese and she'll believe you. Not only is that ego-boosting, but it's entertaining.

All of these things, though mutually beneficial for a while, eventually wear thin for most women.

“If the relationship is… based on the man being a sort of father or mentor figure, problems can – and likely will – arise once [the younger woman] really begins to grow and come into her own,” Masini notes. “Even for couples where there is little-to-no age discrepancy, people often grow in different directions, leading to the dissolution of the relationship.”

That and your young love starts whining that boys her age don't need Viagra and don't want to be called "Daddy" in bed.

----

I'm totally going out and picking up an 18-year-old hottie.... The sex would be fantastic. Problem is... what, exactly, do you *talk* about? Hell, I won't date 33-year-old men who have nothing to say. Where's the *real* erotic tension?

What's the Ray Bradbury quote - "All the women in my life have been librarians, English teachers or booksellers. If they couldn't point the way to Usher and Ox, it was a no go. I have always longed for education, and pillow talk's the best."

I want to see an MSN advice column on how men should look for intelligence in their long-term partners. Funny. You probably *will* see an advice column like that - only it'll be pointed toward a female audience, and tell those fickle women not to be so picky.

Get me a boy and book.

On Polyamous Matriarchies and Selling Books

My buddy Jenn and I went to brunch over at Mary Anne's yesterday and ate good food and talked shop. I also had the opportunity to meet Jennifer Stevenson, who wrote the recently released trash sex magic. We talked about selling novels - it apparently took Jennifer about twenty years to sell hers - and I found myself terribly uncomfortable talking about my finished book. I tend to shrug it off when people ask and say, "Oh, it's just classic epic fantasy."

But that's not going to sell a book.

Jennifer was talking about finding a "high concept idea" spin for your book. She launched into hers - trash sex magic was about a promiscuous woman, a hussie, who lives in a trailer park and falls in love with a tree... Only - she says it way better than that, and when she's done with her spiel, your eyes light up and you think, "Hot damn, I have to *read* that!"

She told me not to feel too bad: it only took her twenty years to condense the concept down into something that made dollar signs flash in the eyes of editors and agents. We trotted out ideas from my book: priests who practice biological warfare, shadow knights who ride dogs into battle, the kitchen-girl-who-would-be-queen in a polyamous matriarchy.

"Go with the polyamous matriarchy," Mary Anne said.

Always get straight to the sex... it sells more books. When Mary Anne introduced Jennifer and said, "Oh, she wrote this book," and handed me trash sex magic, well, I'd already heard of the book - it's tough to forget a title like that, and it's always cool to meet an author whose work I know.

I've had a tough time trying to condense my book into soundbites that make for good cocktail party conversation. I'd finally figured out how to do that with my thesis project in South Africa because I was asked so many times. Now I've got to work on 1) my 1-line spiel 2) my 60-second Editor's Dollar Signs spiel 3) my 5-minute, chatting with other writers about my book spiel.

I hate talking about myself (though I could *write* about myself all day...). I've been taught that talking about your accomplishments is akin to bragging. Bragging is rude. You should always listen twice as much as you speak. But I was being asked about my book three or four times over the course of the brunch, and every time, my chest seized up and the mortal fear came over me and I wanted to say, "It's nothing, no, really, just an epic fantasy. You know, classic epic fantasy stuff. With polyamous matriarchies. And weird social structures. Oh, and giant dogs. And end-of-the-world, purging-magic-users stuff. You know. Kitchen girl who would be queen. It's classic fantasy, only there are women in it. And everybody gets laid."

So I went home after the brunch and thought about High Concept Ideas while I cleaned the bathroom floor. George R.R. Martin could say he was writing an epic fantasy loosely based on the War of the Roses. I'm writing an epic fantasy where priests practice biological warfare, shadowy knights ride dogs into battle, and a kitchen girl struggles to become queen of a polyamous matriarchy at the brink of destruction as magic-users are purged from the continent. Oh, and there's some sex scenes. And some men kept in harems. And lots of fights scenes. Did I mention the sex?

It's a starting point.

Yada, Yada

Here's the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting medical studies:

1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, British or Canadians.

2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, British or Canadians.

3. The Japanese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, British or Canadians.

4. The Italians drink large amounts of red wine and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, British or Canadians.

5. The Germans drink a lot of beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, British or Canadians.

6. Ukrainians drink a lot of vodka, eat a lot of pirogues, cabbage rolls and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Americans, British or Canadians.

CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you

Via metaquotes

If the Presidential Debates were Moderated by Science Fiction Fans...

Matt Cheney's got a great post up - What if the Presidential debates were run by SF fans? They might go something like this:

MODERATOR: Welcome to the first World Science Fiction Presidential Debate, sponsored by Tor Books and Baen Books. Let's start right off. What do you think about the threat of clones and/or cyborgs replacing middle-class workers? Mr. President?

BUSH: I'm against it. In my administration, no cloning will go for money. I was talking with Tommy Franks just the other day about cloning. The President has to be strong on cloning. You have to make decisions. My opponent has been in the Senate since the end of eternity, and he has never once made any. Decisions. And that's bad. The American people expect cloning to be against God's will. It's like abortion with stem cells, which I supported very much, it's important, it's the beginning of the start of something, but there's morality. The President has to be moral.

MODERATOR: Senator Kerry, a rebuttal?

KERRY: I'm glad you asked that question. Considering that cloning is, at the moment, a theoretical venture, we must be certain that what I voted for is what was enacted, which, if you consider what this administration has accomplished, is very little. It's a complicated issue. The President has shown no leadership on this subject, and it's a subject we can't approach with folded hands. My plan will accomodate clones and non-clones, it will allow cyborg technology to be explicated by the best minds in the universe, and it will cut the deficit in half.

MODERATOR: How do you feel about genre-bending movements such as The New Weird and Interstitial Arts? Are they a threat to the purity of science fiction and fantasy? Senator Kerry?

KERRY: I believe that we can have a large movement all together, and that the tent we live in -- or, rather, everyone here but the President and I and, I'm sorry to say, you Mr. Moderator [chuckles] -- that tent -- it's large and can contain multitudes. What's new and weird is the President's approach in Iraq. If we had made alliances, we would have an interstitial approach to foreign policy, but at the moment, the failed policies of this administration have given us a maze of death which our troops are dying inside.

MODERATOR: Mr. Bush?

KERRY: What's new and weird is my opponent's love for Saddam Hussein. Look, I don't know half of what he's talking about, I don't understand any of the words he's using, but I know I'm right. And that's not weird, and it's not new.

Continued here

What's Goin' On

Bear with me, as I am resurfacing from the land of the dead...

Only to read via mousewords about a woman's "romantic" memoir about her discovery of self through sodomy: "You open your ass and you open your mind and you open your heart."

WTF?

Oh. She's from New York. I mean, what kind of person gets these sorts of questions about their book "Can you talk a bit about the connections you make in the book between being anally penetrated and finding God?"

I think that pretty much says all you need to know.

Apparently, she's really sure that her book will anger feminists - this is something that really gets her riled up. But you know, I don't think feminism is the issue, here, when she "keeps the condoms-and-K-Y detritus of their [she and her anal lover's] unions and a baggy-full of his pubic hair in a little memory box", probably on her dresser. This has less to do with feminism and more to do with being a wacky, malnurished nut-job. Are all ballerinas this neurotic? She needs to go out to eat more, and find some other hobbies. Sex is great. Fetishes are fun, and no doubt there are some men out there who keep used condoms from their male lovers in little boxes under their beds... or not. You need to get out once in a while, woman. Damn.

Speaking of sex, over at Utopian Hell and Hugo's place, there's some debate going on about how the sexuality of youth is being contained in the bodies of young women - that is, when we talk about curtailing "hook-ups" and other sorts of casual sex behavior, what everybody's argument turns back to is how to convince young girls to be ashamed about having sex whenever they want to - even if it's safe sex.

The assumption being, I suppose, that men have this really amazingly uncontrollable sexuality: whatever. It's interesting, however, that both Hugo and Astarte bring church lingo into the debate, and how the diffusion of church doctrine in our society has targeted young women. Nobody ever asks if a guy regrets having sex "too early" or "with the wrong partner." What really got me about this discussion was what Amanda pointed out: women are encouraged to have deeper feelings for those partners they have sex with, because if they don't have deeper feelings, they're "sluts." I know that's something I've always struggled with: Am I in a deeply loving, committed, monogamous relationship with this person? If the answer was no, I'd feel terribly guilty for getting involved at all, even if I, the Evil Woman, was just interested in something purely temporary.

I've often wondered how much of the cliche of "women always want to get emotionally involved and men don't" thing has to do with putting pressure on men to treat sex casually, and pressure on women to treat sex like one's only item of self-worth. Sure, having sex with someone you feel affection toward is what it's all about - but why does it have to be monogamous and looking-toward-the-longterm before women get to have "guilt free" sex?

Glad there are people moving past that.

Snapshots From My Domestic Life

Me: Hey, Jenn, I just finished the copy of Zelazny's Guns of Avalon that you loaned me.

My buddy Jenn: Great! How did you like it?

Me: It was cool. Zelazny does in 200 pages what all these other writers do in a ten book series. Though, if we put Martin into that category... I'd taken a Martin doorstopper any day. They're just... different modes of writing. I read Martin to get that really complex character stuff, really big, complex politics. Zelazny'll take you there and back again in 200 pages. Cool in itself, but you're going through all these neat, crazy worlds, you know, like the furry people?

Jenn: Oh, I wouldn't know. I haven't read the Amber books.

Me: ::looking at pile of 6 Amber books sitting on my bedside::: But... you have *all* of the Amber books. You've had them for... years and years and years.

Jenn: Yea. I know. I never got around to reading them.

Me: Like the 800 other books in this house that you haven't read?

Jenn: Yea.

Me: You're nuts.

I then go and start reading the next in the line of eight books I'm currently reading all at the same time.

We have a great house.

French Speak, and All That

I'm finishing up Angela Carter's Heroes & Villains (which I enjoy because it's - because it's Angela Carter), and there's this quote at the beginning:

"Ou fuir, dans un pays inconnu, desert, ou habite par des betes feroces, et par des sauvages aussi barbares qu'elles?"

Now, my grandmother is from France (she was a war bride, straight out of formerly-occupied Nancy), my father was born there and lived there for seven years and used to speak fluent French, and I've taken two years of college French, but because I'm an American, I'm not fluent in any second language like, say, everybody else in the rest of the world. However, I do know that this says something about deserts, and living, and savages, but I can't lick it out, so I engaged the help of these... um, not-so-helpful translators:

From Babble Fish:

"Or to flee, in does an unknown country, desert, or live by betes feroces, and qu'elles such cruel savages?"

From Google:

"Or to flee, in does an unknown country, desert, or live by betes feroces, and savages as cruel as they?"

From Free-Translator:

"Or to flee, in does an unknown country, deserted, or live by wild animals, and savages as cruel as they?"

I'm assuming this is an expansion of Nietzsche's "He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster," quote.

Likely, it means something like this: "Or in fleeing into an unknown country, desert, or place of wild beasts, does one become as cruel as they?"

Reminds me that I should be taking French classes on Saturdays. And reminds me just how lacking all of these online translators still are.

Outta Here

I'm taking tomorrow off work to do some less distraction-filled fiction writing.

Just got back from lunch, where I was told that my credit card had expired ::insert a moment of mind-numbing terror here:: Gave over my bank card. Unfortunately, my bank card only had $10 on it, and lunch came to $11.53.

To my surprise, said card went through - Dell hasn't cashed my $100 computer payment yet. But when they do, guess who's getting double check-bouncing charges! Me! Me!

I have $1 in my wallet. I'm going to the bank tomorrow morning and putting it into my account (which now stands at exactly $99.37 - wouldn't that be great, getting charged $60 in check bouncing fees for 53 cents?). And then I'm going through all my stuff so I can figure out where I put my new Master Card.... otherwise, I'm not buying any groceries this week.

Credit: a liberal arts major's best friend.

The Way to Run a Debate

This is how the debate should have run. Now *that* would have been a smart, informed, pissing contest.

Smart guys are hot.

Today's Mixed Bag

Wheee! The Ladies' Auxillary is going to Iraq! To teach Iraqi women how to be "real women" instead of Evil Feminists! Go Lynn Cheney!

And, for something completely different:

Be sure to check out Team America sneak peaks coming in on the 9th, with an opening day of the 15th. If you haven't heard about it (do you live in a hole in the ground?) it's the latest raunchy offering from Trey Parker and Matt Stone of South Park fame. They're out to put the "F" Back in Freedom - with puppets.

Here's an interview snippet, which helps illustrate why I love these guys:

"For better or worse, we don't have a manager, we don't have a publicist, we don't have a managed image, you know what I mean? We can fucking do whatever we want," Stone says.

"And sometimes it succeeds and sometimes it totally fails, but we just do what we want, 'cause you know, the times we've done what we want, it turned into South Park, which everyone told us would be a big failure.

"If we're gonna lose -- if we're gonna be fuckin' losers -- we're just gonna lose our own way."

The Writing Life, & etc.

My buddy Jenn forwarded this to me: THE SECRET DIARY OF EDITOR #19!

And, my personal favorites:

THE SECRET DIARY OF CLUELESS NEWBIE #43

and

THE SECRET DIARY OF FRUSTRATED WRITER #77

Hot Time On the Old Town Tonight

Yesterday was the third day in a row of fighting classes, and I still haven't managed to shake this cough of mine, and it appears to be culminating in the loss of my voice (this happens at least twice a year, during the changing of the major seasons).

So at about 40 minutes into class last night, I was exhausted - body shaking, sore muscles, wobbly stance exhausted. We were doing a cardio Krav Maga class, which is heavy bag work (kicking and punching techniques) cut through with ab work, lunges, and push-ups.

As we got to the very end of class, Sifu Katalin had us get into and hold a plank position. This isn't actually a very difficult thing to hold - it's basically holding yourself up into a push-up position, tightening up your core, and holding it for a minute. Doing this as part of a pilates class, or at the *beginning* of any other class, isn't difficult in the least. Doing this at the end of a cardio Krav Maga class, as the third day in a row of classes when you're used to doing two days a week... was harder.

"Hold it," Sifu Katalin said. "Twenty more seconds. Close your eyes if you have to. It'll help. Get through it."

And I closed my eyes and quite literally went away. My brain just sort of clicked off from my body and said, "See ya," and I fell back into my writerly fantasyland - I think I ran through some Delaraan plot point I'm cleaning up in book one, with dancing and dog riders.

I descended into blackness for the last twenty seconds, until Sifu Katalin said: "Time" - and then I crumpled.

Tuesday was a really frustrating boxing class. I was paired with an Amazon-like purple belt, Jai, who helped me through the uppercuts. I find throwing uppercuts to the body really awkward, and I've apparently been keeping my feet too narrow while in my fighting stance. I wasn't feeling well, and I was really fucking frustrated.

Jai said, "How long have you been doing this?"

I lied and said three months, when in fact it's been four. That's how bad I thought I was doing.

She just laughed at me. "I've been doing this three years," she said, "and I used to teach boxing at another school. Don't get frustrated. C'mon, tall girl, you've narrowed your stance again."

My friends have gotten to the point where they know me well enough to help me understand the significance of events in their lives by giving me a writing analogy. My buddy Ryan was asked by a formidable guest dancing instuctor to give an example of a form during class, and he said - without my prompting - "It would be like a really famous author holding up an example of your work to the class and saying, `this is how it's done.'" My buddy Patrick once explained how me dropping out of being a bridesmaid at my best friend Stephanie's wedding would be "on par with an editor buying your novel, getting through rewrites and bluelines and shit, and then saying, 'Oh, hey, we just had a strategy shift, and we need this all ironed out in one book -- and we need there to be at least three enormous fight scenes with riding dogs in them. You've got ten days, or else the book will never get published.'"

I love my friends.

So, coming home from class last night, sore and exhausted and knowing that I still had one more class tonight in order to hit my new four-days-a-week goal, I equated my frustration with a wannabe writer being pissed off because they wrote for an hour every day for four months, and they still weren't making a living by writing books.

And I thought of how long and hard I would laugh at that person.

I'm doing OK.

Heh heh

Sorry so quiet today - I spent all morning trying to figure out where I'd found this:



It's here. I found a commenter over at Atrios who pointed faithful readers this way...

I only managed to catch about 20 minutes of the VP debate, because I'm still fighting off some sickness, and I had my MA class last night. I don't remember ever finding politics this entertaining - I think the entertainment value goes up the more informed you are. Within about a minute and a half, I understood why everybody says that Cheney's the brain-behind-the-Bush. After watching Bush blustering through his bashing by Kerry, seeing Cheney lie and dodge like a pro was really neat. Edwards, I thought, came off as terribly boyish and excited, which may have undermined some of his credibility, but ultimately, he seemed to be having a really great time, while Cheney looked increasingly tired and bored.

For all the "joking" about Darth Vader vs. Luke Skywalker... well, the resemblences were pretty funny.

More From the Fighting Life

This is the first week of four days worth of classes - Mon, Tues, Weds, Thurs (and the usual jogging and/or bike riding for fun on the weekends). This gives me four in a row, and double-up potential on Mon and Weds in the future. I realize that saying this to, say, fit people whose body makes up their temple or their occupation (dancers, pro-boxers) might be laughable. But for a sedentary writer-type who'd rather be reading, it's not half bad.

As of this month, I've been working on fighting technique and upgrading my fitness level from "twenty minutes on the elliptical and some dinky free weights" to I WILL BECOME A SUPAH NINJAH for four months.

Not bad.

I'm having a good time.

Continuing Worklife... Yes, it Goes On

There really are people with jobs like this.

People who get paychecks for just... coming into work. I thought this was an illusion. It is not. I haven't really done any work since June.

My office space looks a bit like my college dorm room did, only the sticky notes affixed to my computer have vendors' names and addresses and project numbers instead of story notes. But here at my left elbow are 150 manuscript pages I'm revising, and a yellow notepad upon which I've got book pacing/layout notes for the stand-alone fantasy I'm working on for my next novel project. I've got a copy of Zelazny's Guns of Avalon sitting out (yes, yes, I'm only 2 chapters from the end - I keep getting interrupted by reading other things), and I've just cracked open a can of diet dr pepper and set it next to my stash of CDs. I'm listening to the soundtrack to The Hours. There's a packet of dried apricots here that have been stored in my outbox for the last week.

I'd like to think that this is my reward for doing all the admin. work for $12M worth of projects this year. Either my boss has forgotten to fire me (which is a possibility), or I'm viewed as such a valuable asset that they don't want to lay me off and risk losing me to another job just as they sign on for another project.

That's the great thing about being in a big firm: they have the resources to retain you and your writing habit.

Today's Mixed Bag of Goodness

So, here's what happening: is the President dumb, or is he just playing a dumb guy on TV? Aaron McGruder, the creator of the comic strip Boondocks, said out loud what no media pundit has dared to say. And check out Michael Moore's Letters From Iraq.

In other news, courts in Brazil ruled unanimously that same-sex couples had to be treated as married in matters of state: Brazillian law blocks the spouse and relatives of an elected official from succeeding them in office. There's gonna come a point when treating people as married *some* of the time and not *all* of the time is going to get pretty stale. Wake up, America. Also via Alas, A Blog - check out this discussion about the decriminalization of women involved in prostitution. What happens if you decriminalize the women and start agressively going over pimps and johns? If nobody *buys* something, there's no use selling it, right?

For those interested in the bubbling around Mt. St. Helens (I grew up in an area where you could see St. Helens from the surrounding hills), Jay Lake has been doing a Mountain watch. Want it live? Check out the Volcano Cam here, or get up-to-date info here.

Prepping for the Next Debate

Yes, chiklits, there's another debate tonight. Should be sunny!

For those who missed the Daily Show's wrap-up of the last debate, go be entertained here.

And now... here's your viewing guide for tonight, stolen shamelessly from World O' Crap:

THE BASICS

Vice President Cheney
5 feet 10 inches

North Carolina Sen. John Edwards
Height 6 feet

Strengths

CHENEY: Projects gravitas (i.e., oldness). Has held lots of government jobs. Commands an operational Death Star. Pact with Satan gave him unknown powers, plus a nice portfolio of Halliburton stock.

EDWARDS: Good looks, dazzling smile, great hair. Came from blue-collar background - uses it to show he identifes with problems of working people. Skilled orator. As a trial lawyer, knows Jedi mind tricks.

Weaknesses

CHENEY: Speaks in monotone. Looks like your grumpy jr. high principal. Responsible for quagmire in Iraq. Couldn't care less about jobs, insurance, old people, or what will happen to orphans after he forecloses on mortgage.

EDWARDS: Still serving first term in Senate - has never started a war, or been a wartime VP. Never killed a man just to watch him die -seems too nice to go for opponent's jugular. Not a member of the Trilateral Commission.

Track Record

CHENEY: In 2000 debate, some said he seemed less dour than Joe Lieberman. Had Democratic opponents in House races in Wyoming whacked; claims victory in those debates too.

EDWARDS: Seemed sunny, nice, likable during Democratic primary debates - all the pundits said so. Not used to debating while seated.

Task this Time

CHENEY: Push message that John Kerry is a francophile poofster whom the terrorists want to win so they can attack U.S. again and kill your children. Claim that Edwards lacks the experience and ruthlessness to kill Kerry and assume the presidency, if required.

EDWARDS: Goad Cheney into snarling "go f-- yourself", or "I'll get you yet my pretty; you and your war hero too!" Get him to make funny and/or scary faces for the camera. Make fun of his baldness in hopes he has heart incident. Bring up WMDs frequently, and aks him if HE knows that we were attacked by al Qaeda, not Saddam. Smile a lot.

Always Take The Batteries Out

Fellow travellers:

When discarding your sex toy at the airport, please remember to take the batteries out *before* you throw it away (I mean, come *on* this is vibrating sex toy 101, people).

Thank you.

via Bent Fabric

Saddam to Declare Candidacy for Iraqi Elections

Wouldn't this just be the perfect end to the perfect fuck-up?

Go democracy!

Ah, the WorkLife

Yellow just came into my office and dropped off some close-out documents. He set them down and burst into a rendition of Ice, Ice Baby.

I love working working here.

Oh, For Fuck's Sake.

Amanda over at Mousewords pointed me to this Today Show clip that is... downright laughable.

You know, I'm a year out of college, and I've never used the term "hook up." Amanda rants a lot better about this than I'm about to, so check out her rant here.

Yea, teenagers and young adults have sex. You know, like young people have always had sex, because, you know, it's fun, and it's hardwired. The difference between now and, say, the 60s and 70s is that now (because of AIDS) we're more likely to use condoms. You couldn't drink a beer in my college dorm without condoms springing up in abundance. In South Africa, you better bet everybody's getting it on - and you've never seen so much condom use (among the higher-end of the social heirarchy anyway) in your life. Sure, people are allowed to be more relaxed about sex in today's America - because women aren't forced or shamed into marrying the first guy they "hook up" with. And I agree with Amanda that what we're really talking about here is the "problem" of women who fuck around without "catching feelings." Fucking around without getting attached has practically been a definition of masculinity (and woe to those poor men who just want a "relationship") - it's cool that (I'm assuming, here) women feel empowered enough in their sexuality to choose when and with whom to sleep with and decide whether or not they're obliged to see more of him outside the buff.

Seeing these two "older" women (what, one's just past 30, the other's pushing past 40? C'mon, you guys, one of you grew up in the 80s, the other in the 60s, for fuck's sake - don't tell me teenagers never had sex "back in the good old days when we walked up hill both ways." That was yesterday, for goodness sake) discussing this topic so seriously in this clip sent me into giggles. Yea, right, haven't you guys been to college? How about high school? What's the difference between one-night-stands and serial dating? If all the two of you really want to do is hop into bed together, why go through a dating ritual for three months if it's already really clear that you're not compatable?

There's nothing so annoying as older people who totally blank out all memory of what it's like to have a libido. Frickin weirdos. It's the usual scenerio: sex among the unmarrieds is rampant and immoral, but the marrieds can have as much sex as they want with each other and in whatever random affairs they have, cause they're, you know, *married.*

Whatever.

Once More Around the Mulberry Bush

Was sick most of the weekend, which meant I stayed in bed and finished reading a bunch of books that I was reading concurrently. So, finished Kim Chernin's The Obsession, Nick Mamatas's Move Under Ground, and Sharon Shinn's The Shape Changer's Wife.

Short review would be a) old but base book about anorexia, half of which was interesting, the other half of which sort of waxed poetical about the female body. Not that I didn't appreciate that, mind you, but my own biases were getting the better of me, and I was getting ancy, as in "how much longer until this book is over?" ancy b) as for MUG, reading this book is like being on drugs. If you like that sort of thing, and you're a fan of Cthulu and/or Jack Kerouac, read this book. If not... well, this is an "acquired taste" sort of book c) and Shape Changer's Wife is a really great book, until you get to the epilogue. Which is crap. I'd forgotten that Sharon Shinn was a romance writer at heart... an American romance writer, where everybody needs to form chokeholds on each other at the end. So, read this, but if you're like me, skip the crappy romance-formula epilogue (which, I feel, undermined the entire point of the entire frickin' story. Ahem. But, that's me).