May 272014

You were at an event for the weekend so I imagine you didn’t experience the social media groundswell of the #yesallwomen hashtag. I was walking home from my disney princess movie-watching party on Saturday, checking my phone, and seeing a ton of stuff about it. Not all men are shitbird predators, but yes, all women experience this garbage, is the point of it. I was reading and getting pissed off about the gender essentialism inherent in it, because why is it that the only time my enlightened friends get all gender essentialist is when they’re fighting sexism? Isn’t that the opposite of helpful? I think that calling out toxic masculinity paradigms is truer and more useful than saying patriarchy kills.

So I’m walking along, trying to decide whether to tweet something that will piss off many of my friends. I’m wondering if complaining about the #yesallwomen hashtag would be derailing something important. There’s a guy walking in the other direction and we make eye contact as he passes me. My finger is on the tweet button. The guy is behind me now and says, “hey sweetheart.” I keep myself from jumping or turning to look or doing anything different. Some guy just murdered a bunch of women in California for saying no to him and every feminist in the country is crying out in a paroxysm of anger, and this guy keeps saying, “sweetheart.” He’s said it three times now and it doesn’t sound like he’s getting further away so I know he’s following me. I want to turn around and scream, “GET AWAY FROM ME MOTHERFUCKER” but I don’t because what if he pushes me or hits me or stabs me? I want to call 911 because that would show him, but the cops aren’t going to do shit except berate me for walking alone at night wearing a corset even though I’m also wearing a hoodie and cowboy boots and I look more angry than sexy.

I tweet “Guy following me down the block yelling sweetheart” because by the time I finish typing that with my thumb he has started yelling. With my other hand I pull out a cigarette. I notice that my hand is shaking when I light it. The guy has stopped saying “SWEETHEART” over and over in his flat monotone, which was scarier than if he had sounded cajoling or even angry, because it makes him seem like a shark.

I didn’t run, but I did pause outside of a restaurant with people hanging out by the door to turn around and look. The guy wasn’t there. I thought about saying something to the people standing there but it seemed silly to be so scared, so I just kept on going.

Oct 292013

dovington castle model 2013-10-29 13.44.47

I needed to post this somewhere, because eventually I will want to use the casserole dish the model is stored in.

I sort of assumed that signing up for nanowrimo would make me act weird, but I did not anticipate how weird. This did turn out to be a decent way for me to get a map of the city, though. Maybe next time I will do the countries.

Anyway, this model of Dovington Castle is built from kinetic sand, sugru, toothpicks, and bits of cardboard. Then I took a picture with my phone, dropbox magically copied the picture to my laptop, and I used MSpaint to type and draw map bits on it.

Oct 132013

2013-10-13 06.59.16I am on Martha’s Vineyard to hang out with Steve and everyone else for VP. This morning I picked him up from the airport after his CA signings, but yesterday was a full day of lounging about this paradise and entertaining myself. I found some groceries in the morning, and took a beach stroll in the afternoon.

Horseshoe crab shells littered the tideline, and as I passed a huge clump of scrubby roses, I recalled Teresa mentioning the year when there were so many rosehips that she made jelly from them. So I filled the pockets of my windbreaker with rosehips.

Back at the Inn, I googled rosehips and learned that one has to take out the seeds and fuzz, which was only a little bit tedious. I ended up with about a cup of rosehip shards, and sliced up a cup of strawberries. I crushed them, covered them with water, and proceeded to boil the hell out of them with two cups of water, the tiniest bit of vanilla extract, and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

Result: JAM.

2013-10-12 18.51.20 (539x640)

I use a tiny dab of butter to keep the foam down during the boiling process, which works quite nicely. I assume it has something to do with surface tension.

Sep 222013

Yesterday I was on a four-hour road trip taking the scenic route to a party, and the following sprang into my mind. This fannish masterwork is for the multitudes out there who love both Renegade and Ancillary Justice.

She was a ship, and good at annexations.
But she discovered the ultimate sin,
And was uncivilized towards the Lord of the Raadch,
A tyrant who tried to kill her,
But got the officer she loved instead.
A single corpse soldier,
Now she prowls the galaxy,
An ancillary….
*cheesy music swells*

Starring Lucy Lawless as Breq, naturally.

I can’t look away from it. The leather vest with no shirt. Lorenzo Lamas’ perfect hair and glistening biceps. Animal skulls, giant blazing guns, a burning wanted poster, a scantily-clad babe who is framed headless, and no, I wouldn’t mind riding that motorcycle even a little bit.

Sep 212013

This is from back in July, but apparently I posted it on goodreads and forgot to put it up here. I don’t actually trust that site to keep my little reviews stored forever. Anyway.

Republic of Thieves broke my heart a little, in all the best ways. I had all the feels. I shouted obscenities, cackled with glee, and tried to reach into the pages to cuddle the characters through their moments of frailty and strength. I bookmarked a couple of passages for future “fuck-yeah-feminism-in-fantasy” reference. There’s romance and adventure and daring crime, plus surprises and the difficult trick of mixing a satisfying conclusion with leaving us needing the next book.

There’s an A and a B plot, taking the form of the main timeline chapters alternating with ‘interlude’ chapters that follow a section of Locke’s past. Instead of being separate stories that simply tie together at the end of the book, the plot lines complement each other throughout, giving us a complex picture of Locke and Sabetha’s relationship. The A-plot is a cool, darkly detailed intrigue with a multilayered payoff that had my eyes wide and heart racing, but I found myself far more invested in the B plot, which is entertaining and has lots of fun moments for characterization junkies.

As usual, Lynch’s use of language is fucking delightful. Creative threats and cussing are my not-so-secret favorite aspect of his work in this series, but it would be a crime not to also point out how he uses just the right amount of descriptive detail to build a fabulous world. I loved it and look forward to reading it again.