I have no plans to go to Utah. However, I think about going to Utah everyday and often desperately wish I were there already.
Showing posts with label blah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blah. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 03, 2025
Wednesday, May 21, 2025
A Little Annoyed
I watched The Fault in Our Stars this evening. I read the book, years ago, because emotionally I'm always a 15 year old girl, and remembered most of the details.
Anyway, spoilers for an 11 year old movie, there are two moments that bothered me:
- When Isaac introduces himself he says he has a glass eye. The shot is close enough to then show both eyes moving with the exact same dexterity. Uh, not. That's not how it works. Sorry.
- Near the end, while Gus is dying and in a wheelchair, for many scenes, he's still wearing his artificial leg. I mean, it's possible that he might continue to wear it, but it's unlikely that he'd wear it when he felt so tired and awful. It just bothered me.
Otherwise, the movie's fine. The acting is pretty good and the well deserved vitriol toward Van Houten works really well.
Stars granted.
Monday, September 24, 2018
Sorting Hat Quizes
Why is it that every sorting hat quiz that I take puts me in Ravenclaw, the house I'd prefer to be in, except for the one at Pottermore?
I keep getting Gryffindor and I would make a lousy Gryffindor. No one who would stand by watching a first year get wedgied and then feel guilty about it should be put in Gryffindor.
I keep getting Gryffindor and I would make a lousy Gryffindor. No one who would stand by watching a first year get wedgied and then feel guilty about it should be put in Gryffindor.
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Old Movie
I'm sitting in a theater waiting for them to start playing South Pacific. You know, the musical by Hammerstein and Rogers.
The weirdest thing is their playing disembodied audience sounds. Mumble, mumble, mumble.
It's disconcerting.
Normally, by now, my phone would be off and I'd be reading the book that's in my lap. This theater is way too dark. It's at the level that most movie theaters use after the previews start; dark enough to see the film on the screen, but bright enough to easily see the aisles and seats.
I know. Have you ever had your eyes dialated at the optometrist? It's at that level. Very uncomfortable, for me. I'm here by myself and I'm not going to ask a stranger, so I don't know if others find it as uncomfortable as I do.
The mumbles are strange. Constant. Part of me wonders if this is what He'll could be like. Unseen people having conversations around you, but you can't make out any words. Just sounds with enough structure to let you know it is language, but nothing distinct enough to be language. Listening to conversations in a language you don't speak would be easier on the brain because you would be able to make out individual words and sentences.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The beginning is the hardest part. Except for the middle and the end.
So, I've been sitting here trying to convince myself to write something. Not something for the blog, but fiction. A story.
Several weeks ago Queenie posted, "Have you ever had that feeling, the one where you tell everyone that your real ambition is to write, when really all you do is read what other people write?" and I keep thinking about it. I went through this six or so years ago.
I'm sure I've written about it before, but I stopped telling people that I want to be a writer a long time ago. A writer I am not. I do not write. There was a time there, almost two years ago, where I was writing something, that no one here would have read, almost every day. I was working myself up to writing something that I could maybe, possibly send off to someplace where they read the writing and mull it over and decide whether it might work for their publication, or not. Probably not. I was close, though.
I had started a story. I had written down the basic ideas. I'd created a very bear bones outline. (The beginning. A bit about the middle. A huge question mark for the end.) Then I left a job where I was comfortably miserable for a job that's so excruciating, for me, that I'm having trouble focusing enough to read. (It took me three weeks to read The Bourne Identity, and that's not a tough book. I've only read the first section of A Dance with Dragons and can't get any farther. I did, however, breeze through The Phantom Tollbooth, but that book is special.) I no longer even write for that site that I frequent and those were just stories based on a TV show that ended nearly a decade ago.
However, I have ideas.
Ideas are so easy for me. They just bloom and neurons fire and thoughts that seem random start to connect into something larger. If I'm good, I write them down so I'll have them for later. I'm rarely good.
Last week I figured out the beginning, middle, and end of a story idea I've been thinking about for a year. It's not meant for the general public. I've got it figured out, though. But I can't write it. When I try to start my stomach lurches and I'm overcome by a sense of nothingness. The idea is still there, in my head. I can see how it needs to get down in the the bits of the computer. I can't type though. I can't focus. My fingers just run across the keys, feeling them, but not pressing down. And I move off to something else: a funny cat video, or the television, or the darkness under the sheet and blankets. I still feel it pressing on my skull. It wants to get out, but when I tried to type it earlier, nothing. nothing
When I picked my parents from the train station on Friday my mother told me that my brother wants to make an illustrated story about a mythical American animal. She said he didn't want my help, though, because I wouldn't be interested in doing it. The truth is I would be interested. In fact I thought of a story for the animal yesterday, but when I went to e-mail my idea to him I typed two words then couldn't type anymore. Partly because I don't know if it's the sort of story he wants, but mostly because I just couldn't because even if he didn't like the story idea he can start moving in the right direction by knowing what he doesn't want to do. Hell, even when he reads this and says he'd like to know I don't know if I'd be able to type the answer to him. At this point, I don't even know if I could speak it to him.
Several weeks ago Queenie posted, "Have you ever had that feeling, the one where you tell everyone that your real ambition is to write, when really all you do is read what other people write?" and I keep thinking about it. I went through this six or so years ago.
I'm sure I've written about it before, but I stopped telling people that I want to be a writer a long time ago. A writer I am not. I do not write. There was a time there, almost two years ago, where I was writing something, that no one here would have read, almost every day. I was working myself up to writing something that I could maybe, possibly send off to someplace where they read the writing and mull it over and decide whether it might work for their publication, or not. Probably not. I was close, though.
I had started a story. I had written down the basic ideas. I'd created a very bear bones outline. (The beginning. A bit about the middle. A huge question mark for the end.) Then I left a job where I was comfortably miserable for a job that's so excruciating, for me, that I'm having trouble focusing enough to read. (It took me three weeks to read The Bourne Identity, and that's not a tough book. I've only read the first section of A Dance with Dragons and can't get any farther. I did, however, breeze through The Phantom Tollbooth, but that book is special.) I no longer even write for that site that I frequent and those were just stories based on a TV show that ended nearly a decade ago.
However, I have ideas.
Ideas are so easy for me. They just bloom and neurons fire and thoughts that seem random start to connect into something larger. If I'm good, I write them down so I'll have them for later. I'm rarely good.
Last week I figured out the beginning, middle, and end of a story idea I've been thinking about for a year. It's not meant for the general public. I've got it figured out, though. But I can't write it. When I try to start my stomach lurches and I'm overcome by a sense of nothingness. The idea is still there, in my head. I can see how it needs to get down in the the bits of the computer. I can't type though. I can't focus. My fingers just run across the keys, feeling them, but not pressing down. And I move off to something else: a funny cat video, or the television, or the darkness under the sheet and blankets. I still feel it pressing on my skull. It wants to get out, but when I tried to type it earlier, nothing. nothing
When I picked my parents from the train station on Friday my mother told me that my brother wants to make an illustrated story about a mythical American animal. She said he didn't want my help, though, because I wouldn't be interested in doing it. The truth is I would be interested. In fact I thought of a story for the animal yesterday, but when I went to e-mail my idea to him I typed two words then couldn't type anymore. Partly because I don't know if it's the sort of story he wants, but mostly because I just couldn't because even if he didn't like the story idea he can start moving in the right direction by knowing what he doesn't want to do. Hell, even when he reads this and says he'd like to know I don't know if I'd be able to type the answer to him. At this point, I don't even know if I could speak it to him.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
An Annoyance
Not pointing any fingers or, hopefully, stepping on anyone's toes, but am I the only one who's bothered when blogger write anniversary posts?
I am, aren't I.
Everyone else out there in the blogohedron loves anniversary posts, don't they. They love being reminded that it's once again that time of year to write to one of the blogs they skim on a semi-daily basis and offer their heartfelt congratulation to a person who's been able to write on a semi-daily basis on the interporns.
I may think differently if it was just a sentence at the end of that day's post saying, "O, BTW, 2-day B mi blogs anniversary. cool." It never is, though. It's always the whole point of the post from the title to the end.
Yuck.
I am, aren't I.
Everyone else out there in the blogohedron loves anniversary posts, don't they. They love being reminded that it's once again that time of year to write to one of the blogs they skim on a semi-daily basis and offer their heartfelt congratulation to a person who's been able to write on a semi-daily basis on the interporns.
I may think differently if it was just a sentence at the end of that day's post saying, "O, BTW, 2-day B mi blogs anniversary. cool." It never is, though. It's always the whole point of the post from the title to the end.
Yuck.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
First Person Pronounless
Took tomorrow off to go into SF for the weekend. Spendin' money don't really have.
Haven't been much into writing. Ah, well.
Been worried about paying for the trip and a place to stay for my brother's wedding. Parents may rent a house though, and that'd solve where to stay, and how much it costs. Now more worried about taking time off work and how to get there. Probably driving.
Need to get up to Cowtown in the next few weeks and talk to parents. (Unrelated to thing in above paragraph.)
Amazoned near sister-in-law her birthday present on Monday. Tracking hasn't really tracked it all week. Hope it gets there by her birthday on Saturday.
To get to SF whenever, bought a card that beeps at the front of the bus instead of carrying cash. Think it's a good investment.
Think DVD player is dying, almost 10 years-old. Hasn't been reading the Sabrina set Mom loaned me too well. Hasn't been reading Deadwood too well, either.
Job's changed, sort of. Trying to catch-up the DEU stuff. Slow going when the I&A guys are also there to boss me around.
Wonder if the reason people thing glasses make one look smarter is because the first people who wore glasses were ones who read and wrote a lot.
Want food processor. Even more, want more counter space so there is room to use food processor.
Possibility of winning ticket to see advance Watchmen. Would like to win so don't have to pay for movie will see, but not particularly excited about.
Feel stinky sweaty. Yucky.
Done. 'Bye
Edit 4:25: PS Wish WingB and her beau a safe flight and a fun trip to Italy! They leave in a few days.
Haven't been much into writing. Ah, well.
Been worried about paying for the trip and a place to stay for my brother's wedding. Parents may rent a house though, and that'd solve where to stay, and how much it costs. Now more worried about taking time off work and how to get there. Probably driving.
Need to get up to Cowtown in the next few weeks and talk to parents. (Unrelated to thing in above paragraph.)
Amazoned near sister-in-law her birthday present on Monday. Tracking hasn't really tracked it all week. Hope it gets there by her birthday on Saturday.
To get to SF whenever, bought a card that beeps at the front of the bus instead of carrying cash. Think it's a good investment.
Think DVD player is dying, almost 10 years-old. Hasn't been reading the Sabrina set Mom loaned me too well. Hasn't been reading Deadwood too well, either.
Job's changed, sort of. Trying to catch-up the DEU stuff. Slow going when the I&A guys are also there to boss me around.
Wonder if the reason people thing glasses make one look smarter is because the first people who wore glasses were ones who read and wrote a lot.
Want food processor. Even more, want more counter space so there is room to use food processor.
Possibility of winning ticket to see advance Watchmen. Would like to win so don't have to pay for movie will see, but not particularly excited about.
Feel stinky sweaty. Yucky.
Done. 'Bye
Edit 4:25: PS Wish WingB and her beau a safe flight and a fun trip to Italy! They leave in a few days.
Monday, June 16, 2008
One Song, Glory
I sit and I wonder. I've written on this before because there are times when it just happens: What do I write in my blog?
I don't want to write about my grandpa. There's nothing for me to do with that for me. It just becomes endless chatter that runs in circles because not enough is known.
Do I write about the junk that I want to eat tonight? It's not really something I want to write about, but it could be done.
I could write about how screwed up my internal calendar is because of my trip last week. But that's all I have on that subject.
Iron Man.
Extra sleep.
Dreams.
Something my great uncle told me at Easter that I'm still trying to work through.
GURPS.
Musicals.
Trips for work next month.
Walking.
Phone numbers.
TV anniversary.
Flashes of stories that are hardly ideas but want to become them.
Desire isn't just a crazy girl/boy person. But how does Desire lead to creation when his/her brother is Destruction? Or does it come from Dream? Who can say?
Spoiler's return.
Chuck Dixon.
Final Crisis.
Highlighters.
The crunch.
New car and the financing that goes along with it.
Jessica Jones and the greatness she is in Alias.
Another loss of power. Third time since November. Never happened before.
The numbers assigned to body parts.
The crap that is my work.
Comic Sans.
Blank verse.
"Mending Wall."
Déjà vu.
Dan Jurgens draws the best BG Batgirl, ever.
Bullshit.
I don't want to write about my grandpa. There's nothing for me to do with that for me. It just becomes endless chatter that runs in circles because not enough is known.
Do I write about the junk that I want to eat tonight? It's not really something I want to write about, but it could be done.
I could write about how screwed up my internal calendar is because of my trip last week. But that's all I have on that subject.
Iron Man.
Extra sleep.
Dreams.
Something my great uncle told me at Easter that I'm still trying to work through.
GURPS.
Musicals.
Trips for work next month.
Walking.
Phone numbers.
TV anniversary.
Flashes of stories that are hardly ideas but want to become them.
Desire isn't just a crazy girl/boy person. But how does Desire lead to creation when his/her brother is Destruction? Or does it come from Dream? Who can say?
Spoiler's return.
Chuck Dixon.
Final Crisis.
Highlighters.
The crunch.
New car and the financing that goes along with it.
Jessica Jones and the greatness she is in Alias.
Another loss of power. Third time since November. Never happened before.
The numbers assigned to body parts.
The crap that is my work.
Comic Sans.
Blank verse.
"Mending Wall."
Déjà vu.
Dan Jurgens draws the best BG Batgirl, ever.
Bullshit.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Griggle-Shrnup
Tired. (Dunno why. Slept well last night.)
Angry. (Because here at work someone's personal call, on a cell phone, at his desk, about the baby's laundry, is more important than trying to sort out rules that aren't too clear.)
Sore. (Scroll down to yesterday's post.)
Didn't read all my comics last night. (Watched Batman Beyond for longer than I intended.) Wonder why Booster Gold lets Barbara Gordon get shot. (Does he change history and find it to be not better?)
Did read the end of "The Sinestro Corp War." (The prophecy is interesting. Think that Kanjar Ro will lead the Orange Lanterns, when they come about.)
Other stuff read doesn't stick in my mind too well. (Although I do remember enough of one to know that Ice and Fire are soul mates, which doesn't mean they are, or even should be, lovers.)
Rude Cactus realized he is not a realist and asked what people do to get through. (No answer from me. Not sure what I do, or why I do, but I do.)
Still have to find Christmas gifts for parents. (Do coupons for hugs and kisses still work when you're nearing 30?)
Not sure if I'm going to buy any gifts for some friends this year. (Just don't really feel like shopping for and thinking about others, I guess. What does that make me? Anything at all?)
Be on my way to Cowtown for Christmas in about 188 hours. (Not planning on hurting my then.)
Done. (The End.)
Angry. (Because here at work someone's personal call, on a cell phone, at his desk, about the baby's laundry, is more important than trying to sort out rules that aren't too clear.)
Sore. (Scroll down to yesterday's post.)
Didn't read all my comics last night. (Watched Batman Beyond for longer than I intended.) Wonder why Booster Gold lets Barbara Gordon get shot. (Does he change history and find it to be not better?)
Did read the end of "The Sinestro Corp War." (The prophecy is interesting. Think that Kanjar Ro will lead the Orange Lanterns, when they come about.)
Other stuff read doesn't stick in my mind too well. (Although I do remember enough of one to know that Ice and Fire are soul mates, which doesn't mean they are, or even should be, lovers.)
Rude Cactus realized he is not a realist and asked what people do to get through. (No answer from me. Not sure what I do, or why I do, but I do.)
Still have to find Christmas gifts for parents. (Do coupons for hugs and kisses still work when you're nearing 30?)
Not sure if I'm going to buy any gifts for some friends this year. (Just don't really feel like shopping for and thinking about others, I guess. What does that make me? Anything at all?)
Be on my way to Cowtown for Christmas in about 188 hours. (Not planning on hurting my then.)
Done. (The End.)
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Spatters on a Window
I leave work early today and may, if I can get the note thingy, be doing this every Tuesday for the next 12-16 weeks. Although with Christmas and New Year's Day landing on a Tuesday this year, one or two of those days may be on Wednesday instead.
In other news, there's not much to write.
The weather is drizzly. It looks more like fog than clouds, but it's clouds. And the temperature is warmer than it was last week.
Not one of the clerks has gone to lunch yet. Does that mean that from 1:00 to 1:30 there won't be anyone in the front office?
I've fallen way behind on e-mails. Not that I have many e-mails, ever. Still, some have sat there more than a month waiting for a response. I'm tired of trying to find new ways of saying that what I'm doing hasn't changed/isn't changing to the same people over and over. It's not fair to them because it probably comes out sounding like whining when it's just the truth and shouldn't be read with any sort of emotion behind it.
Inspiration. I don't understand it. If a person feels inspired, shouldn't that person want to create right away? Why then do so many people claim they feel inspired by something, but don't create anything?
I read through the most recent issue of Madman last night. It's a really good, really odd comic book. It made me wish I could draw.
In other news, there's not much to write.
The weather is drizzly. It looks more like fog than clouds, but it's clouds. And the temperature is warmer than it was last week.
Not one of the clerks has gone to lunch yet. Does that mean that from 1:00 to 1:30 there won't be anyone in the front office?
I've fallen way behind on e-mails. Not that I have many e-mails, ever. Still, some have sat there more than a month waiting for a response. I'm tired of trying to find new ways of saying that what I'm doing hasn't changed/isn't changing to the same people over and over. It's not fair to them because it probably comes out sounding like whining when it's just the truth and shouldn't be read with any sort of emotion behind it.
Inspiration. I don't understand it. If a person feels inspired, shouldn't that person want to create right away? Why then do so many people claim they feel inspired by something, but don't create anything?
I read through the most recent issue of Madman last night. It's a really good, really odd comic book. It made me wish I could draw.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Cuh-ruh-iced.
Cuh-ruh-iced. It's just been a day. Nothing big has happened, just lots of minor things. Things that separately would be annoying, but together they just build upon one another. At least it's quieted down. The building has ceased and the pressure is slowly being released. I'm just going to focus on buying comics this evening and spaghetti for dinner. (Although I'm not using spaghetti noodles. I'm using shells. They're easier to handle.) Unfortunately, it's hard to block out the smell of the lavender soap that was being used to clean the potted plants out in the lobby. Steen-kay.
I've mentioned this to a few people, but I don't think I've written it here, but I really didn't like the second ending to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I know that Rowling wanted to show the audience that Tom Riddle was really dead and that she wouldn't be writing any more Harry vs. Voldemort books. She also wanted to show that Harry has finally had the life he's always wanted with a family that loves him.
I understand all of that, but it wasn't a good ending. It was so saccharine. And the way that Harry named his kids after his parents and people he respected made me wonder if Ginny has any say in their marriage at all. Why didn't she insist they name one of their kids Fred after the twin that died? (Oh, sorry, SPOILER ALERT!)
The best thing about the second ending is that Rowling didn't tell us what jobs they all ended up with in the book (Although, apparently she did in interviews and such. Looks like Ron is still in Harry's shadow, rather than doing something for himself. Sad.) so I, and all the other readers, can decide for myself where they ended up working.
The one thing that would have saved the epilogue would have been if Dudley Dursley had been at Platform 9 3/4 with his wife sending a child off to Hogwarts. That would have ruled. And it would have allowed her to finish this book in a similar way to all the other books, with Harry and the Dursleys together.
Ah, well. Hindsight and all that.
I've mentioned this to a few people, but I don't think I've written it here, but I really didn't like the second ending to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I know that Rowling wanted to show the audience that Tom Riddle was really dead and that she wouldn't be writing any more Harry vs. Voldemort books. She also wanted to show that Harry has finally had the life he's always wanted with a family that loves him.
I understand all of that, but it wasn't a good ending. It was so saccharine. And the way that Harry named his kids after his parents and people he respected made me wonder if Ginny has any say in their marriage at all. Why didn't she insist they name one of their kids Fred after the twin that died? (Oh, sorry, SPOILER ALERT!)
The best thing about the second ending is that Rowling didn't tell us what jobs they all ended up with in the book (Although, apparently she did in interviews and such. Looks like Ron is still in Harry's shadow, rather than doing something for himself. Sad.) so I, and all the other readers, can decide for myself where they ended up working.
The one thing that would have saved the epilogue would have been if Dudley Dursley had been at Platform 9 3/4 with his wife sending a child off to Hogwarts. That would have ruled. And it would have allowed her to finish this book in a similar way to all the other books, with Harry and the Dursleys together.
Ah, well. Hindsight and all that.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Boa Reins
I'm not really in the mood to blog, which probably means I should blog. That leads me to wondering what to write about, though. Crap.
What about Sketchfu? Has everyone experienced Sketchfu, yet?
Heels showed it to me. She's pretty awesome at it. Her first big picture was one of her husband holding their son. (Although his hair doesn't stick up enough in the front. There shouldn't be any curve to it.)
Me? I suck. Great manatee god, I have enough trouble trying to draw anything meaningful using a pencil or pen, the mouse is nearly impossible.
What about Sketchfu? Has everyone experienced Sketchfu, yet?
Heels showed it to me. She's pretty awesome at it. Her first big picture was one of her husband holding their son. (Although his hair doesn't stick up enough in the front. There shouldn't be any curve to it.)
Me? I suck. Great manatee god, I have enough trouble trying to draw anything meaningful using a pencil or pen, the mouse is nearly impossible.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
WTF?
Thinking of things to write here, this week, has been really difficult and I don't know why. I had exactly the same number of things to write about last week, but it all seemed so much easier.
Well, fuck it.
How about the wedding that I'm going to on Saturday, huh? It's for a friend that I've known a long time. Like since second grade. We weren't friend friends back then, but I knew of him. The friend thing didn't happen until high school. He worked in China for a year a while ago.
His fiancée I don't know, at all. I think I've met her twice, maybe three times if she was working that day Wings and I crashed the 'Bucks they worked at. I couldn't remember her name until I got the invitation a few months ago. See, the thing is when I first heard about her it was from my old roommate. I asked her what she was like and one of the things he said was that she has a sort of Jennifer Tilly voice. Ever since that time, I've called her Jennifer in my head. Whether they have similar voices, I'll have to leave up to the experts.
In the world of sports, I have no idea what the hell's going on. In fact, I'd rather keep a mummified monkey cock than know. I think it's baseball season, but what does it matter? I'm not a gamblin' man. My knee cap, or life, doesn't hang in the balance if the local team doesn't beat the spread. In fact, no matter how the local team does, my life won't change one little bit. I won't even hear about it!
Same goes for Dancing with the Fucking Stars or whatever "reality" TV show is popular right now. I don't don't know, and I don't care. HA! Eat it you network bastards! I don't have to put up with your crap!
Well, fuck it.
How about the wedding that I'm going to on Saturday, huh? It's for a friend that I've known a long time. Like since second grade. We weren't friend friends back then, but I knew of him. The friend thing didn't happen until high school. He worked in China for a year a while ago.
His fiancée I don't know, at all. I think I've met her twice, maybe three times if she was working that day Wings and I crashed the 'Bucks they worked at. I couldn't remember her name until I got the invitation a few months ago. See, the thing is when I first heard about her it was from my old roommate. I asked her what she was like and one of the things he said was that she has a sort of Jennifer Tilly voice. Ever since that time, I've called her Jennifer in my head. Whether they have similar voices, I'll have to leave up to the experts.
In the world of sports, I have no idea what the hell's going on. In fact, I'd rather keep a mummified monkey cock than know. I think it's baseball season, but what does it matter? I'm not a gamblin' man. My knee cap, or life, doesn't hang in the balance if the local team doesn't beat the spread. In fact, no matter how the local team does, my life won't change one little bit. I won't even hear about it!
Same goes for Dancing with the Fucking Stars or whatever "reality" TV show is popular right now. I don't don't know, and I don't care. HA! Eat it you network bastards! I don't have to put up with your crap!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Disturbing Statues?
Recently among the comic chunk of the 'net people have been discussing this statue of Mary Jane Watson-Parker. (Here's one day's worth of posts at When Fangirls Attack. There are way more. It's overwhelming.) I'm pretty sure I know why, but that's not the statue that I want to write about because it's not the comic based statue that most disturbed me this month.
The one that got me was the newest Strangers in Paradise statue of Katchoo.
I can hear people now: "What's so offensive about that statue? Cleavage isn't hanging out as a focal point. She has a more realistic waist size. Her breasts aren't overly huge. And it doesn't imply that women should be barefoot and doing house work like the Mary Jane statue does." And I totally agree.
The reason that the Katchoo statue disturbs me is because all the moments in her story where she's wearing a dress like the one she has on in the statues are the moments when she's under the thumb of Darcy Parker. It's when Katchoo is "Baby June." The dress is a symbol of Katchoo's life in, what is essentially, slavery.
That dress is silken chain that Darcy Parker put around Katchoo when Katchoo was pulled off the streets. And the worst thing is that, in the dress, Katchoo, at least for a while, liked the life she lived with Darcy Parker. She liked being a call girl. She liked extorting money out of people. She liked the lounging by the pool. And she liked Darcy Parker.
In the dress, Katchoo could pretend that Darcy Parker wasn't a monster. She could pretend that Darcy Parker didn't order the deaths of people who wouldn't be extorted. She could pretend that Darcy Parker actually loved her.
To me, Katchoo in a dress, especially a cocktail dress, is always one of the most disturbing images. It represents everything that Katchoo was trying to leave behind and I, as a fan of the series, would never want to own something that constantly reminds me of the emotional and physical horror one of the best characters ever created has gone through.
As "Baby June," Katchoo wasn't a hero, she was a pathetic villain who was always too afraid to do anything for herself or her friends.
I don't understand why anyone would want a reminder of that.
And now that I've written this, I feel silly. I don't mean it as a joke or in any way to slight the reaction to the Mary Jane statue, but for me I find the Katchoo statue to offend me more than the Mary Jane one ever could because I don't care about Mary Jane the character (or feminist icon) like I care about the character (or fictional person) that is Kachoo.
The one that got me was the newest Strangers in Paradise statue of Katchoo.
I can hear people now: "What's so offensive about that statue? Cleavage isn't hanging out as a focal point. She has a more realistic waist size. Her breasts aren't overly huge. And it doesn't imply that women should be barefoot and doing house work like the Mary Jane statue does." And I totally agree.
The reason that the Katchoo statue disturbs me is because all the moments in her story where she's wearing a dress like the one she has on in the statues are the moments when she's under the thumb of Darcy Parker. It's when Katchoo is "Baby June." The dress is a symbol of Katchoo's life in, what is essentially, slavery.
That dress is silken chain that Darcy Parker put around Katchoo when Katchoo was pulled off the streets. And the worst thing is that, in the dress, Katchoo, at least for a while, liked the life she lived with Darcy Parker. She liked being a call girl. She liked extorting money out of people. She liked the lounging by the pool. And she liked Darcy Parker.
In the dress, Katchoo could pretend that Darcy Parker wasn't a monster. She could pretend that Darcy Parker didn't order the deaths of people who wouldn't be extorted. She could pretend that Darcy Parker actually loved her.
To me, Katchoo in a dress, especially a cocktail dress, is always one of the most disturbing images. It represents everything that Katchoo was trying to leave behind and I, as a fan of the series, would never want to own something that constantly reminds me of the emotional and physical horror one of the best characters ever created has gone through.
As "Baby June," Katchoo wasn't a hero, she was a pathetic villain who was always too afraid to do anything for herself or her friends.
I don't understand why anyone would want a reminder of that.
And now that I've written this, I feel silly. I don't mean it as a joke or in any way to slight the reaction to the Mary Jane statue, but for me I find the Katchoo statue to offend me more than the Mary Jane one ever could because I don't care about Mary Jane the character (or feminist icon) like I care about the character (or fictional person) that is Kachoo.
Useless Labels:
blah,
comics,
over analyzing
Monday, May 07, 2007
Friday, April 13, 2007
Drique
This morning SUSM said, "[ticknart], I think I'll let you do the mail this afternoon." Like it was some sort of a treat. Something that I've been begging her to allow me to do for months. I promise, I haven't been asking. In fact, for a while I had to ask to be allowed to do the mail less because it was becoming assumed that when the regular mail person was gone that I was just going to get up and do it, which I hated.
In other news, I don't really have any news.
Let's see, what were the highlights of the week:
Monday:
Tuesday: Installed Windows XP Professional after reformatting hard drive.
Wednesday: Installed XSI, again, and I couldn't get the license so the dongle would work. (I also e-mailed their tech support, again and they got back to me today asking for my registration number, which I'll send to them when I get back tonight and then I'll have to wait until next Tuesday for a response. *sigh*)
Thursady: Bought comics, but decided to finish reading Dead Until Dark instead the the comics. (Except I did read 52 because I like to read the 5.2 interviews over at Newsarama.)
Friday:
I can't really think of what I did on Monday, which means I probably didn't do much. Tonight, I was going to go to see a movie, but my allergies have flared and I'm not feeling so well right now.
The weekend is to be composed of laundry and shopping.
I was wondering what it would be like to dance naked on a beach in the south pacific under the full moon.
In other news, I don't really have any news.
Let's see, what were the highlights of the week:
Monday:
Tuesday: Installed Windows XP Professional after reformatting hard drive.
Wednesday: Installed XSI, again, and I couldn't get the license so the dongle would work. (I also e-mailed their tech support, again and they got back to me today asking for my registration number, which I'll send to them when I get back tonight and then I'll have to wait until next Tuesday for a response. *sigh*)
Thursady: Bought comics, but decided to finish reading Dead Until Dark instead the the comics. (Except I did read 52 because I like to read the 5.2 interviews over at Newsarama.)
Friday:
I can't really think of what I did on Monday, which means I probably didn't do much. Tonight, I was going to go to see a movie, but my allergies have flared and I'm not feeling so well right now.
The weekend is to be composed of laundry and shopping.
I was wondering what it would be like to dance naked on a beach in the south pacific under the full moon.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
AAAAAARRRRRRRRRRG!
It's 4:30 and I've been trying to catch-up with my work and I couldn't figure out anything interesting to write about so I haven't blogged today, but I don't want to not blog.
Does that make sense?
I'm not sure it does.
Anyway, what did I do yesterday? Oh, I reformatted my main hard drive, again, and installed Windows XP Professional. Tonight I'll reinstall XSI and try to get the damn licencing thing to work so my dongle will be primed and I'll be able to start doing some freakin' modelin' started.
Also, yesterday I went to Burger King for lunch. I used to really like that place. The Whopper was a sandwich truly built for kings. Now, though, after I eat one I burp it up all day. I'd like to blame the gas on changes to the sandwich, but it's probably just me getting older and gassier.
I ate dinner around 9:30 last night. I had a bowl of Rocky Road ice cream. Bryers. Good chocolate ice cream. Good chocolate covered almonds. The swirl of marshmallow cream doesn't really work though; it just kind of blends into the ice cream. The whole point of having marshmallows is the squishy texture opposing the crunch of the almonds after the ice cream melts in your mouth and the chewing begins.
Read JSA comics while formatting. Stephen Sadowski will, I think, forever be my favorite penciler to grace those pages. He draws the best looking Wonder Woman, period. Sure, it's Hippolyta he's drawing, but... wow. It's especially great when she's in the white bustier instead of the usual gold. I wish he'd come back to drawing the Justice Society.
Does that make sense?
I'm not sure it does.
Anyway, what did I do yesterday? Oh, I reformatted my main hard drive, again, and installed Windows XP Professional. Tonight I'll reinstall XSI and try to get the damn licencing thing to work so my dongle will be primed and I'll be able to start doing some freakin' modelin' started.
Also, yesterday I went to Burger King for lunch. I used to really like that place. The Whopper was a sandwich truly built for kings. Now, though, after I eat one I burp it up all day. I'd like to blame the gas on changes to the sandwich, but it's probably just me getting older and gassier.
I ate dinner around 9:30 last night. I had a bowl of Rocky Road ice cream. Bryers. Good chocolate ice cream. Good chocolate covered almonds. The swirl of marshmallow cream doesn't really work though; it just kind of blends into the ice cream. The whole point of having marshmallows is the squishy texture opposing the crunch of the almonds after the ice cream melts in your mouth and the chewing begins.
Read JSA comics while formatting. Stephen Sadowski will, I think, forever be my favorite penciler to grace those pages. He draws the best looking Wonder Woman, period. Sure, it's Hippolyta he's drawing, but... wow. It's especially great when she's in the white bustier instead of the usual gold. I wish he'd come back to drawing the Justice Society.
Useless Labels:
blah,
randomness
Friday, February 23, 2007
NEWS FLASH!
Even though I never met her and actually think she was disgusting, I am the father of Anna Nicole's baby, Dani Lynn.
I am the one who is entitled to raise the baby in the comfort that her probable billions will provide. It'll only be the best for the baby.
I promise I won't take advantage of the situation.
I promise, really.
I am the one who is entitled to raise the baby in the comfort that her probable billions will provide. It'll only be the best for the baby.
I promise I won't take advantage of the situation.
I promise, really.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Erratic Thoughts, Again :-)
What time is it? 4:30, and I still haven't started a "real" post for the day.
There's been something weird about today. Every time I've looked up at the calendar above my desk to figure out the date, I've been surprised that it's Wednesday and not Friday. My body and my brain are pretty well convinced that today is Friday and that tomorrow I should be able to "sleep in" until eight. It's unfortunate that I can't do that, though. I still have to get up and get to work by eight.
I realized this morning that maybe I shouldn't bother trying to leave comments on any blogs anymore. I came to this realization when it occurred to me that on every blog I read that had a new post when I got to work this morning and allows comments, I wrote a comment, typed in the obnoxious security letters, and promptly left the page without posting. I've been doing this sort of a thing, well, for years, but this is the first time I didn't post any of them. I wonder why this is.
Is it okay that I used an emoticon in the title? I don't really like the things, but for some reason it seems to make the title of this post a bit more whimsical. Or maybe it's all the Pep-O-Mint Lifesavers I've eaten this afternoon.
You know that song "Witchy Woman"? I think The Eagles sing it. Yeah? I hate it. I didn't always hate it, but I do now. The guy who sits across from me plays it at least three times a day. Not loudly, but it just loud enough that that I can hear the chorus. And I can't stand it. It sucks. It should be destroyed before it had a chance to be created. It may ruin a good Seinfeld gag, but I can live with that. There were plenty of good episodes before that one.
There's been something weird about today. Every time I've looked up at the calendar above my desk to figure out the date, I've been surprised that it's Wednesday and not Friday. My body and my brain are pretty well convinced that today is Friday and that tomorrow I should be able to "sleep in" until eight. It's unfortunate that I can't do that, though. I still have to get up and get to work by eight.
I realized this morning that maybe I shouldn't bother trying to leave comments on any blogs anymore. I came to this realization when it occurred to me that on every blog I read that had a new post when I got to work this morning and allows comments, I wrote a comment, typed in the obnoxious security letters, and promptly left the page without posting. I've been doing this sort of a thing, well, for years, but this is the first time I didn't post any of them. I wonder why this is.
Is it okay that I used an emoticon in the title? I don't really like the things, but for some reason it seems to make the title of this post a bit more whimsical. Or maybe it's all the Pep-O-Mint Lifesavers I've eaten this afternoon.
You know that song "Witchy Woman"? I think The Eagles sing it. Yeah? I hate it. I didn't always hate it, but I do now. The guy who sits across from me plays it at least three times a day. Not loudly, but it just loud enough that that I can hear the chorus. And I can't stand it. It sucks. It should be destroyed before it had a chance to be created. It may ruin a good Seinfeld gag, but I can live with that. There were plenty of good episodes before that one.
"I can't stand it!" I like it!And now it's time to go.
It's like a guarantee.
My new philosophy.
And things are sure to be a whole lot brighter
"Oh, yeah? That's what you think!"
"Why are you telling me?"
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