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Spent the morning preparing another big stack of Taxman prints to go out...sorry these are taking so long, everybody, I obviously did NOT sufficiently budget the time required to mail 150 prints! (And if this ever happens again, Ursula will have learned her lesson, believe me...) But the first waves are arriving, and the testimonials about the amazing packing job are coming in, so that's something. Personal favorite: ...may I say that I've neverThis is what we like to hear! *grin* This last stack should be the bulk of the orders--the rest are ones that are combined with other print orders, and so have been taking longer to fill, but they're a-comin'. ...I need to order more ink. Also! I am trying to get these adult-content filters to work for me--the journal default is set at "may be inappropriate for under 14" but hopefully things like this are showing up open. It's all a matter of remembering to set the little box. (Is this showing up unfiltered?) 8 comments | post a comment
International Museum Day Trinity Sunday (Christian) Visit Your Relatives Day Birthday - Mother's Whistler So I’ve been stalling reworking my Hive First Contact story, which I’ve been thinking of sending into the
The last one was the main problem. Something wasn’t going together. I had no idea how to keep these people on the planet after it got dangerous. I had to raise the stakes somehow, force them to action, and I was just staring at the plot going, “But the other choices aren’t logical!” Clearly, I needed to get dumber characters. It was that or figure out some other factor to make them stick around so they could actually do the story. Then, suddenly, I had a brilliant idea. I would strand them there. Okay, it’s not so brilliant or original. In fact, it’s sort of a cliché. But you know what? I think it works this time. It’s a good foundational reason for our heroes to be there, and it nudges the plot forward and answers the details. It’s simple and effective, and fixes a lot of the questions readers may have about the story. I feel so damn good when that happens. Funny how straightforward a solution can be, and how it can be staring you in the face the whole time. In other writing news! I seem to have entered a loose compact with
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kittikattieto fix the ending of The Chronicles of Narnia with regards to Susan, with each of us providing our own take on what could happen to her after the end of the series, assuming that I decide to count The Last Battle. We’ve both got damn good ideas. For my part, I get to resuscitate a plotbunny that’s been cryogenically frozen since back when I first read The Last Battle in—I dunno, fifth or sixth grade? It involves a lot of cool magical adventures, psychological torment, and also a bit where Aslan gets his smug ass took down a peg. I still think it’s a pretty good idea. As for kittikattie’s idea, you’ll have to ask her about it.
For a long time, I've had a goal of making a set of short flyers or one-sheets about the history of my town. For those that don't know, my family has been here for going on 5 generations now, and I often see new people moving here who probably aren't totally aware of what makes this town unique and interesting. I also feel like I have a somewhat different paradigm of the place, it's inhabitants and geography, and I thought this would be a good way to share my understanding of the place I live.
I just saw -- locked post, not quoting -- for the umpteenth time an instance of the following pattern:
OK, this sucks. There are, in fact, several ways this sucks. First of all, the OP has already, by simple virtue of expressing her (it's usually a her) discontent with the status quo of her ability at X, implied a positive judgment as to the value of being able to do X. Replying that only bad people think it's valuable to be able to do X is, in fact, tantamount to telling the OP that you think she's a bad person. Now, I think there's times when that might be appropriate -- "I'm no good at getting myself to torture kittens" sorts of cases -- and perhaps you will too. But it most definitely is confrontational, though covertly, and unless you actually intend to say, "Actually, I think you suck for wanting to torture kittens", maybe this isn't the message you want to be sending. Certainly in saying it you forfeit all claim to being supportive. Similarly, replying that the poster shouldn't worry her pretty little head about things she finds challenging is, um, really, need I say more? People have a right to aspire, and it does not feel good to be told one shouldn't have the aspirations one does. In short, both messages are invalidating of the OP's feelings, aspirations and values. Secondly, and worse, this constitutes taking someone who is having difficulty doing something that matters to her, and telling her you don't think she should (2.1) or could (2.2) become better at it. Way to be supportive. Knowing that other people disapprove of what you're doing or disbelieve in you is so encouraging when your confidence in yourself is low. Worse still, third, you have just put her in a double-bind, the most benign form of which is now she gets to make a forced choice between your good opinion/contingent approval of her, and her aspirations for herself. Awesomesauce. She was already struggling, and now she gets to do her struggling while emotionally blackmailed: "if you get better at this, I will think less of you/you won't be you any more." Worst of all is the least benign of the double-binds, where, heaven forfend, she takes the bait and swallows it whole. It is, after all, a temptation, no? The point is, "Here is something for you to believe about yourself/X which will allow you to feel good about not doing X well." It's a salve for the ego. The temptation is to accept it to feel good where one feels bad. And it can work. In the short term. But from then on, doing X will be booby-trapped. Any time she approaches doing X, the ego-salving belief will leap to mind -- "...but if I got better at X, that would make me a bad person"/"...but if I got better at X, it would mean it wasn't just who I was" -- sabotaging any further efforts at improvement. Accepting such ego-salving beliefs is a deal with the Devil. You are anesthetizing your self-dissatisfaction, at the price of giving up on ever improving in X. You are buying a more comfortable present by selling off your future. You simply can't simultaneously believe that studying X makes you a bad person and do a credible job at learning it. Brains don't work that way. And if you accept the premise "I'm just bad at that X stuff", you work your lack of ability at X into your very identity, and any improvement of ability with X will come freighted with identity conflict! Encouraging people to believe such ego-salving beliefs is like feeding someone food with a fishhook in it. It's inviting them to do a cognitive drug rather than improve the condition that vexes them, and getting them addicted. It's clipping someone's wings. It is sabotage. It is vile to do this to someone. It can take years or decades for someone to pull that fishhook out -- if they ever do. Or they may go through their whole lives turning away from an aspiration in their heart because they succumbed to that temptation when they were young. Yeah, "only trying to be helpful". Said in ignorance? OK. But now you, gentle readers at least are no longer in ignorance, and have some sense of just how appalling a thing it can be to say to someone. Now you know better. And now that I've spelled it out, hopefully some of you will be better forewarned to resist taking such tainted bait yourselves. There is a world of regret available to you through that door; I recommend turning from it in the strongest possible terms. Finally, I have to point out that in most of the cases I can recall of such comments, they were really unambiguously examples of the commenter(s) having their psychological pants down around their knees. Saying something like, "only bad people suck at X", tells us pretty clearly that you are incompetent at X, and are actually trying to turn your incompetence into a moral virtue. Saying, "that's just how you are", suggests pretty strongly that you are incompetent at X, and are trying to keep other people down at your level. If you don't actually want to transparently indicate to all and sundry that you are bad at X, too, and all neurotically obsessed with it, maybe you don't want to say things like this. 13 comments | post a comment
Before I go into the awesomeness of the day, I would like to share with you a picture that pretty much sums up how I feel about life right now.  I woke up early this morning and hopped online. With the spotty motel wireless, it took a bit of wrangling to get that last entry up, but I did it! For all of you! Well, and for me. But also for all of you! *loves all of you* Anyway, by the time we got all showered and wolfed down complimentary bagels and coffee, it was around nine. We hopped into Beatrice and made our way out onto the open Wyoming road. The landscape was, by and large, the same landscape we saw yesterday. Gorgeous, huge skies, wide, open spaces. I, however, was not distracted by this natural beauty. My eyes? Were fixed on the horizon. "I see the mountains! I see the mountains!" I shrieked, bouncing in my seat. Beatrice swerved slightly. "I think that might be a hill," Errol said. It did, indeed, prove to be a hill. A short time later: "There they are! I can see the snow!" "I think those are clouds." They were. So we drove along, Joni Mitchell crooning at me as I frantically searched for the Rockies. Around Cheyenne, not too far from the Colorado border, we drifted over the swell of a hill and... there they were. Snow capped and majestic and blue with distance. "Oh. My god." I felt that pressure behind my nose like when I'm about to cry, and I had to take a deep breath to keep from doing so. "My god." We went through Cheyenne and over the Colorado border. "TOWANDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" We stopped for gas; I made my voice post, we checked the oil (good until Las Vegas, I'd say), and we got back on the road, silent, doing nothing but stare at the mountains. We turned off the main road and headed toward Estes Park. We went through a town called Loveland where there was a lovely lake (looking at a map, I think it was Boyd Lake, but I'm not sure) with a little park and a great view of the mountains. We stopped to stretch our legs and absorb the majesty for a bit.    As we got ready to get back into Beatrice and continue on our way, Errol pointed out some statues to me. Read the last bit carefully.    It says: Invictus. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul. William Ernest Henley Errol smiled at me. "It seems appropriate," he said. Hands shaking slightly, I got back into the car and we kept driving... into the mountains.  We drove slowly, soaking in the sights as we climbed higher and higher into the mountains, passing through small towns with cabins for tourists. After a while, we arrived in Estes Park. It was gorgeous. The town was clean and bright and you could see the snow capped mountain peaks in the distance. We had a delicious and surprisingly inexpensive lunch at a pizza restaurant and then made our way to Rocky Mountain National Park. Sadly, we're here about a month out of season, so certain passes were closed (I am, however, absolutely positively determined to come back here during the season at some point). We did, however, get some amazing pictures. It was breathtakingly lovely.           Also, while I was hanging out taking photos on this rocky outcropping, I made friends with a very personable furry woodland creature who got very, very close before scampering away.  After we were all Rocky Mountain-ed out, we headed toward the hostel. By accident (though I'd been wanting to see it, we hadn't planned on it) we stopped at the Stanley Hotel, which probably has all kinds of rich historical things attached to it, but which I love because it's where Stephen King was inspired to write The Shining.  After we left the Stanley, we found the hostel. The manager and her son were busy setting up mattresses and things. The son, Joel, was a shy sixteen year old who helped me out getting internet up. Then he, Errol, and I helped drag some boxsprings and mattresses onto bedframes. Later, Errol and I took a walk around Estes Park. I bought a big ol' cowboy hat at a leather shop. The owner nodded his head approvingly when I tried it on. I looked in the mirror. It looked pretty darn cool. "Now, here's the question," he said. "Are you the type of lady who pushes her hat up off her face, or the kind who pulls it down low?" I tugged the hat down low on my face. "This way," I explained. "I can see them, but they can't see me." We walked around. I bought a "Rocky Mountain National Park" bumper sticker for Beatrice, and a little Buddha for my dashboard in a Nepalese shop (interesting fact: there are something like 4,000 people from Nepal living in Estes Park during the normal season. Apparently it's a huge destination for the Nepalese). The girls at the shop told us that we'd apparently missed snow in Estes Park - get this - by a day. Whew. We're just going to have to be careful tomorrow - don't want to get trapped in any freak blizzards. Anway, the hostel is lovely and nice, and I really want to come back here some time in the summer. They have a map on the wall of where people are from, and I stuck a pin in PA and DC. So, in conclusion: Rocky Mountains = *indistinct gaping noises combined with a waving of hands* Love you all! Tomorrow we travel to Durango. 5 comments | post a comment
These are the twits I twitted.
Here is my initial preview - review of Sherlock Holmes: The Awakening.
( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. ) 21 comments | post a comment
Today was 8 hours of awesome and win... for it was a women's event day.
Armed Forces Day Babysitter Safety Day UN World Telecommunication Day Anniversary - 1st US Same-Sex Marriage Birthday - Mia Hamm (soccer) Constitution Day (Norway) So I saw Prince Caspian on Thursday night, which was okay. The writers made a noble, but not necessarily cohesive, attempt to lengthen the story itself, and I will say it resulted in some serious ass-kicking on the parts of Edmund and Susan, who were bloody awesome.* Also awesome was Reepicheep, played by Eddie Izzard, who was so wonderful that at least one critic decided that he couldn’t possibly have been in the original book. Except … Caspian? Absolutely not hot, or in fact interesting in any way.** I have this problem a lot: muscular Adonisy men with their features permanently frozen in a wooden representation of petulant angst are airbrushed, spraytanned, given a fancy hairdo, and splashed up on movie posters as Tormented Main Characters. They don’t act at all, except for a kind of petulant pout and a periodic attempt at “acting” that consists primarily of being petulant more loudly.*** This would be worse if they got more real characterization, but they don’t, so I guess a wooden performance isn’t too detrimental. But the worst part is that I just do not find Hot Guys hot. Don’t get me wrong. I still get attracted to physical features. But Hot Guys are not that type. I need something interesting to look at, something besides that look of self-conscious perfection. Fortunately, there’s no dearth of the interesting characters with actual, you know, characteristics. Give me that over the Romance Novel Cover Hot Guy any day. *Dammit, I don’t care what happened in that crack-fest that is The Last Battle. Fuck you, CS Lewis. In my capacity of a fan, with my superpower to accept parts I like and reject parts I don’t, I hereby declare that The Last Battle Doesn’t Count. **Also too old to be Caspian. ***See: Hayden Christensen.
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Making arrangements to meet someone at a cafe to drop off books and stuff. "Oh no!" I thought, after confirming the time, "how will we recognize each other?"
What better way to thank our vets for laying their lives on the line than by FUCKING THEM OVER! 21 comments | post a comment
Thomas Doyle
A mighty high-five to Brett Warnock, Leigh Walton, and Chris Staros, for launching their new webcomix initiative at Top Shelf! |
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writey
tired
ecstatic
hot
