Oh Em Gee, there’s a word for this!

Anyone who’s hung out with me for more than about five minutes knows I have a hojillion different hobbies/interests/whatever. I’m one of those people who starts new projects and activities the way some people start new rolls of paper towels.

For example, here is a list of the various classes/hobbies/activities I am actively (as in, within the last few weeks) doing:

  1. aikido
  2. weightlifting
  3. knitting
  4. bookbinding
  5. web design
  6. blogging (here and at The Book Roadie)
  7. movie reviewing
  8. 52 Weeks to Awesome
  9. Profitable Idealism
  10. MorningStar Mystery School (where I am not only in THREE different courses but am also the communication coordinator AND accounts receivable for an upcoming retreat)
  11. Shiva Nata
  12. The Kitchen Table
  13. YNAB

And I KNOW I am leaving things out. Plus there are all the things I don’t really consider hobbies — keeping up with various social media sites (Facebook and Twitter especially), staying in touch with friends and family as best I can (hah), and so on.

Turns out, there’s a word for this — for getting into lots and lots of things rather than getting to be an expert in one thing: Scanner. I’m a Scanner! Sweet.

I like having words for things. I mean, I’ve always been interested in linguistics and language…

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Rambling

Man! I have been cranky lately. I’m sure my overall lack of posts other than ones about things that piss me off already indicates as much. I just don’t have a lot to say that’s positive other than the things I’m posting over at The Book Roadie. Sigh.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately, trying desperately to pare down my pile of Books I Am Reading. Of course, I am not doing a very good job of not starting new books, so… yeah. Not making a lot of progress.

Books I finished in the last month or so:

  • The Art of Nonconformity (FINALLY) by Chris Guillibeau. (My final verdict: meh. Some very good stuff, but some not-so-great stuff too.)
  • It Sucked and Then I Cried, by Heather Armstrong (Awesome, as I expected. My ovaries just about crawled out of my body in sheer terror while reading it, but I was expecting that.)
  • Queen of Shadows,  by Dianne Sylvan (this was a pretty damn good first book, and I can’t wait for the rest of the series!)
  • Eat Pray Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert (I liked this way more than I expected to and now am a little afraid I’m going to start subscribing to O Magazine or something.)

I’m rereading the Scott Pilgrim books for the umteenth time, mostly because I’m too tired/stressed at the moment to handle the Serious Books in my To-Read stack (Seriously, I’m reading like half a dozen nonfiction books).

Also, for the first time in I don’t know how long, I gave up on a book. The Spell of the Sensuous is everything I loathe about philosophy, and I just could not bring myself to get more than about thirty pages in. I kept yelling things at it like “That doesn’t even make any sense!” and “What the fuck?” and I decided it was bad for my blood pressure. Seriously. When I got to the part where he tried to use metaphorical speech to “prove” that synaesthesia is our natural state, I just lost my temper entirely and stopped reading. I didn’t throw the book across the room, but I was tempted. BLECK.

So. That’s about it. Have you signed up for Profitable Idealism yet? No? Why not do so through my affiliate link and help me pay for my bookbinding classes?

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Neato! A new class from Johnny B. Truant and Pace Smith!

If I didn’t already have a NO MORE CLASSES moratorium on myself, I would have signed up for this already. GO FORTH AND BEHOLD THE AWESOMENESS THAT IS PROFITABLE IDEALISM!

Seriously, Pace is totally awesome. Johnny is a badass. Both of them together? RAWK.

Plus if you sign up before 2/18, you get a serious discount. Go check it out!

(Full disclosure: The above is an affiliate link)

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Comment Policy

Hrm, looks like I got linked from the Debacle timeline for my post yesterday, and that’s bringing the trolls out of the woodwork. I feel like a real blogger! Strangers are showing up to tell me I suck! (/sarcasm)

So! Guess I ought to formally state my commenting policy. It is: this is my personal blog, and if I don’t like your comment, I won’t post it.

No, that’s not censorship. Anyone can go get their own blog and scream about how much they disagree with me over there (provided they aren’t making threats against me; that shit is illegal). I don’t have to provide anyone with space to tell me they think I’m wrong/stupid/fat/slutty/whatever. There are free blog sites everywhere.

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On jokes, “jokes,” and dickwolves

… cos you know I can’t possibly not comment on a controversy that includes the word dickwolves.

Seriously. DICKWOLVES.

OK. The short version of what went down (for a painstaking timeline go here):

Penny Arcade posted a comic months ago which depicted a slave being left behind by a wandering hero because said hero only had to rescue five slaves, so why would he rescue one more? The slave, trying to change the hero’s mind, explains the horrible tortures all the slaves endure, including being raped to sleep by dickwolves. I actually found the comic kind of amusing, in a tasteless fashion.

Not everyone did, and when some folks complained, the PA guys basically said, “OMG U R DUMB DON’T BE SO SENSITIVE” and blew them off. Lather, rinse, repeat, with both sides getting increasingly upset.

Now, in my opinion the comic itself, while tasteless, was lampooning the way our culture blows off rape survivors — doing a reductio ad absurdem on it to show how fucked up it is. That, to me, is the only way to get a rape joke even halfway close to acceptable. Somewhere in all the reading I’ve done about this over the last couple of days, someone said that gallows humor is humor that puts the comedian in the place of the condemned, not in the place of the hangman, and I think that’s very accurate. If your rape joke puts you in the place of the rapist (e.g., “I would’ve had to give her a roofie to get in her pants, ha ha ha”) then you are an asshole and your joke is not funny because it’s all about reinforcing the perpetrator/victim relationship.

If your joke puts you in the place of the victim (e.g., …. uh, wow. I can’t really think of an example. That shows you which form of rape joke is more prevalent, no?), you have a hope of not being an asshole.

Really, though? The best bet is to just not make rape jokes. And if you go out on a limb and do make one, don’t be an asshole to people who complain. Something like one in six women and one in eight men will be raped or have someone try to rape them in their lifetime. Rape is awful and widespread, and that isn’t funny.

When you make tasteless jokes, people will complain. Nobody was trying to organize a boycott of PA or of their con, PAX. People were just saying they thought the strip was offensive. A more reasonable response to that would be, “We see where you’re coming from, and we’re sorry.” They didn’t even take the comic down, just empathize with the people who were upset. It’s not hard. Letting people know they’ve been heard is a quick and easy way to defuse this kind of thing. But the PA guys didn’t do that, and now people are talking about boycotting PAX.

Unsurprisingly, one of the PA guys, after they both essentially said “nothing is off limits for humor!” got upset and declared one area off limits for humor — an area that personally offended him. It’s okay when other people get upset/offended, but not when he or his wife do. *eyeroll*

For a far more eloquent writeup about the whole thing, check out Shakesville.

By all rights, this entire Penny Arcade debacle should be eye-opening for anyone with a baseline capacity for logic. Of course it was always going to go down this way. Of course treating rape a little too flippantly was going to trigger survivors, and of course triggered survivors and their allies who asked for some consideration were going to get attacked, and of course when Mike and Jerry escalated it by mocking anti-rape advocates, those advocates were going be harassed and threatened in an attempt to silence them, and so on and so on until here we are.

It was entirely predictable—and not because, as the jaded cynics of internet battles would have us believe, that’s the way the internet works, but because that’s the way the rape culture works.

The rape culture is not just about actual and attempted acts of rape, sexual assault, and sexual harassment, but also about all the other ways in which contempt and/or indifference toward other human beings’ consent, autonomy, boundaries, and right to halt any unwanted interaction in their personal spaces are violated.

I could never have made as effective an argument for what was wrong with that Penny Arcade comic as the resulting fallout itself has made.

Imagine that—a bunch of dipshits who find a comic about rape funny have no respect for boundaries or consent.

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Homophobia and Pro-Natalism

(Pro-natalism is being in favor of people having kids, and is often used to describe situations which penalize folks who don’t have kids.)

So, we know that homophobic men get excited by gay porn, which suggests that folks who get all “OMG homosexuality is a choice!” may feel that way cos they’re attracted to members of their own sex and are choosing to go against that. In other words, the people who get the maddest about gay folks often are gay and working hard to deny it — and thus are on some level envious of folks who aren’t making themselves miserable the same way.

I was reading a piece on Bitch Magazine’s website and its ensuing comments, and it suddenly hit me: do the people who get so offended by childfree folks’ intention not to have kids fit a similar paradigm? Are they so offended because they secretly don’t want to have kids, or wish they hadn’t had them, and are envious of people who decide not to have kids in spite of those feelings?

Now, I’ve mostly been lucky and not run across folks personally offended by my decision not to have kids, but I’ve met with plenty of condescension (“oh, you’ll change your mind!”) and confusion (“but… but then why are you getting married?”). I have run across plenty of folks online who are pretty damn offended that the childfree exist and aren’t ashamed of their lack of childbearing urges. I try not to engage them, it’s bad for my blood pressure.

We all know from the kerfluffle around Nebraska’s child abandonment law that not all parents are happy they had kids, but there’s a huge taboo in our culture around admitting it. Hell, lots of anti-abortion propaganda sounds like children are a punishment.

Just an idea to chew on. I know people who desperately want kids, people who love their kids to bits and are happy to put up with the difficulties of parenting, and I totally respect their choice. I’m just kind of intrigued by this line of thinking around the folks who don’t respect mine.

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RANT: Why Tron >>>> Tron Legacy

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed Tron Legacy. But I like Tron better, and was really aggravated by some of the stuff they got wrong in the new one.

It’s not the new flick’s clunky, predictable plot (seriously, I called every “twist” and major event a good 15 minutes in advance). It’s not the parts of the original they skullfucked (CLU was a program who DIED in service to the Users. I am so pissed that they named the villain in the new film after him. His filename should’ve been hung up, like when a baseball player’s number is retired). And there was plenty to enjoy about the new movie — the bits of Zen, the spiffy graphics, etc.

No, there are two simple reasons that the new film pissed me off and made me long for the old one (which I had rewatched a couple days prior):

  1. The programs aren’t programs.
  2. It doesn’t feel like the inside of a computer.

Continue reading »

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OMG, can it be? Failbender: Rant the Fourth! It’s BORING and MAKES NO SENSE.

So! After posting Rant Three, I got busy and sick and then sick-and-busy, and not only completely failed to finish and post this, but managed to forget I’d neglected to do so. I blame that on PID and NaNoWriMo. But better late than never, right? CJ wisely commented on Rant Three demanding to know where this post was and that made me remember I’d never actually put it up. Oops. Thanks, CJ!

Onward! Remember, I’m using sarcastic names to refer to most of the characters from the movie, to distinguish them from the characters in the series. :D

Even Ong looks like he's yawning.

Wow, even Ong looks bored. *yawn*

A cardinal sin for an action/fantasy film is to be boring and senseless, and Failbender managed to do that. I’m talking overall, not during the intermittent bits of excitement or the occasional scene where it looked like maybe it was going to stop sucking and get good (spoiler alert: it doesn’t). I can handle a movie being a little boring or not making much sense (I mean, I love BBC docudramas and I love dumb action flicks). But you can’t be both at once.

The biggest way it bored the crap out of me was in completely failing to follow that old adage: SHOW, DON’T TELL. I felt like I was reading a series of five-paragraph essays. We’d get told what was going to happen, it would happen, and then we’d be told what happened. Characters would do stuff — sometimes off screen! — and then tell other characters what they’d done, yanno, in case the audience wasn’t paying attention or had to go pee or something. We’d get badly-combined expository voiceovers and flashbacks where we’d see the boring stuff and be told the interesting stuff. WTF?!

Consider Zuko’s fight with his father, which leaves him horribly scarred. In the series, it’s a moving scene and helps us understand why he is the way he is. When the film set up a scene where Muko was obviously going to talk about it and started a flashback, I perked up. This is a great, emotionally powerful scene in the series, surely Twistalan wouldn’t, couldn’t fuck this up! Right? Right?

Wrong. Never underestimate the Twistalan Touch (yanno, like the Midas Touch, but it turns everything to shit). In the flashback, we only see glimpses of what happened but not of the actual duel,  and everything is voiceover. And remember how shitty the script is — it’s not even good voiceover.  GAH. There’s no clear explanation of why it’s such a big deal that his own father forced him into a duel in spite of being under age, and the cutting and voiceover are so badly done that it’s impossible to get caught up in this pivotal point for the character.

The Tell-Don’t-Show approach makes the film dull and the pacing uneven. On top of that, the script’s incoherence manages to make everything feel arbitrary. Rather than a coherent story with overall themes and arcs like the series (which ran three seasons and had a definite complete gestalt storyline going on in addition to little side stories), it feels more like a series of events. It’s hard enough to get invested in characters who are so poorly developed, but when stuff happens for no clear reason, it’s impossible.

By way of example, let’s look at Ong’s visit to the Northern Air Temple. For no obvious reason, he goes by himself, leaving Whitara and Soaka behind to eat bonbons or whatever. It’s never so much as suggested that they go with him. Strength in numbers? What’s that? While there, he’s suckered in by a peasant, surrounded by Fire Nation soldiers, and taken captive. How did the peasant know he’d be there? Did the Fire Nation put decoys and battallions in every Air Temple in the world just in case? How could they spare them, given the ongoing war? WTF?

Muko, disguised as the Blue Spirit, rescues him — we never hear how Muko knows Ong has been captured. Given that Admiral Zhao keeps it secret and Muko isn’t with him, maybe he’s psychic? Regardless, Ong is definitely psychic, because he recognizes Muko in spite of his thorough disguise and in spite of only having crossed paths with Muko briefly prior to this. Further, why the hell does Ong save Muko when he’s injured? Given that Ong is a terrifying, immoral, emo Child of the Corn nutjob, it makes no sense that he’d suddenly be besties with the guy who captured and attempted to deliver him for execution on the only other occasion they hung out.

Hell, how did he save him? No idea, that bit got cut. We just go from Muko collapsing and Ong deciding to save him to Muko rejoining his uncle. There isn’t even any expository voiceover. WTF?

You can tell this film made a serious impression on me. Usually when I dislike a film, I block most of it out and can’t remember jack about it after a few months. However, I spent so  much time and energy being angry about this piece of shit that I didn’t even have to go back and rewatch bits of it for this entry. I looked over the little outline I made for this final rant and was like, “oh, man, I remember that. What is this fuckery, Twistalan? I do not approve!” GRRRRRRRRR.

Phew. So that’s that, the rants are complete! I feel better now. :) Thanks again, CJ! And watch this space — I have another rant brewing about the stuff that pissed me off about Tron: Legacy. It’s not going to be so virulent since there was plenty of stuff to like about the film, but it’s coming.

I may have to go watch some episodes of the TV show to re-cleanse my palate. Feh.

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Rant about Assange and rape

Warning! I am angry! The below is ranty. Also probably triggering for some people. Read at your own risk. Don’t comment if you just want to tell me I’m overreacting or whatever. Go back to your own blog and write there.

Okay? Okay. Onward.

So. Wikileaks founder Julian Assange has been accused of rape. There’s talk of extradition from where he is now (the UK) to the country where he’s been accused (Sweden). Nobody thinks this is a coincidence — lots of governments are pissed at him, and it’s pretty obvious that were this anybody else, nothing would be done.

Why?

Because it’s a rape case. About 6% of all rapes ever wind up with the rapist going to jail. Any Joe Schmoe who raped two women in Sweden and then went to the UK would not be extradited.

Frankly, I think the hoopla might be a good thing. If Assange actually did commit rape, he should serve time. I don’t care how noble Wikileaks is (that’s a whole other kettle of fish I’m not interested in). Of course, I still think Roman Polanski should have served time, so what do I know?

What has me extra pissed off is how many of the various progressive/left supporters of Wikileaks are coming up to say, essentially, it wasn’t rape cos the women didn’t indicate their lack of consent vocally enough. No means no, and that means you have to say no, or it’s not rape. Even though he held one woman down so she’d have sex with him. Even though he started having sex with the other while she was asleep, and unable to consent. Even though in both cases he refused to use a condom, in spite of both women having made it clear all along that condoms were necessary if sex was going to happen.

What the fuck.

Setting aside the arm-holding and the sleep-raping, consensual sex and non-consensual sex look very different, regardless of whether the words “no,” “stop,” or whatever get said. Of course Assange says it was consensual. If it was, then he’s right. If it wasn’t, he’s a rapist with a very different idea of what “consensual” means than the average not-rapist sort of person. From the link above:

To a rapist, sex that is a mistake is a girl who was flirting with you and doesn’t scream and run and hit you when you rape her — obviously she wanted and deserved it because she was flirting, and that’s what he’ll say to make bystanders call her a liar. Bystanders will believe this, because they’re imagining what they think “mistake” means instead of realizing what definition the rapist is using. To a rapist, drunken sex is spiking a drink or finding a girl who is voluntarily so drunk that she’s blacking out or passed out and raping her while she’s unconscious or unable to move. She’ll call it rape, he’ll say “she was drunk!” and bystanders will think about the times they’ve had drunken sex with a consensual partner, and how HORRIBLE it would be if they were accused of rape later, so obviously THIS couldn’t be rape, never realizing that the rapist has a very different definition of “drunken sex” than they do.

More on consent and non-consent:

A rapist who dismisses all other ways a victim has of saying no to sex indicates that the only way out is a physical fight. Nothing else will work. And he has placed his victim at a physical disadvantage — isolated, possibly undressed, possibly lying down, possibly drugged — in order to lessen the chance of a physical fight, and the chance of her winning. And as soon as it becomes clear to her that nothing less than a physical fight will stop sex, she knows what a disadvantage she is in. A rape victim who sees all her options outside of a physical fight ignored knows that to get away, she will have to risk being injured. And she may not get away, and be forced to have sex while injured, or (I don’t know if men can really understand or imagine the horror of this one) be forced to have sex that by itself causes physical injury. So suddenly this thing that seemed so important — the right to your own body — gets cast aside. You decide it isn’t worth it. You quietly agree to whatever they say.

This case is only making it more clear how back-assward the American take on rape is. For example: here in the US, it isn’t always illegal to continue having sex with someone who withdraws consent. As long as things started off consensually, one partner can do whatever they want to the other, even if the victim starts saying no, begs them to stop, whatever. Courts have ruled that this is the case. WTF.

Mostly, at this point, I wish every person who is mouthing off about how wrong it is to even consider extraditing Assange would read this — I know it’s just addressed to second and third wave feminists, but most of the content applies to the others — and then either nut up and say clearly they think it’s not rape if you don’t say no repeatedly while the assault is happening, or shut the fuck up.

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Why I Do NaNoWriMo

So, National Beat Up On NaNoWriMo Month is mostly over, but a few essays/posts/etc are still trickling in. Since I finished early this year, I’m feeling inspired to post about NaNo myself.

First, the facts:

  1. I have done NaNoWriMo every year since 2001.
  2. Yes, that’s 10 years.
  3. I have “won” (ie, written 50k) every year. Sometimes in semi-cheaty ways (like, having my characters read things I was writing in other contexts, like my reviews), but always finished. Even when I was laid up after serious surgery, I finished.
  4. I have only attempted editing one of the novels.
  5. I have never submitted any of them for publication.

I have written over 500,000 words just for NaNo in the last decade. I have spent hours and hours churning out words I won’t let people read, let alone send out for publication.

According to the Anti-WriMo crowd, those words are crap, pointless, useless, a waste of time.

To me, they’re also crap. But not pointless or any of the other stuff. Every year, I relearn valuable lessons from NaNo:

  1. Writing is only useless when you don’t do it.
  2. If you haven’t written something down, you can’t edit it and make it better.
  3. If you haven’t written it, you can’t see its structural issues.
  4. Most importantly, I relearn how to shut my inner editor up and just write.

That inner editor was the bane of my first NaNo attempts, and nearly made me lose. It was so hard to churn out words without fussing over them endlessly. Impossible! But I’m extremely competitive at heart (weird, for a Pisces, I know), and deadlines are sacred to me, so I managed to do it. Every year it gets easier.

Slowly, that ability has crept into my other writing. I can pound out movie reviews and blog posts in no time now, and then edit them and polish them and send them off. I have a lot more confidence in my writing — given that the stuff I churn out for NaNo isn’t half bad sometimes, how much better must my other writing be, since I take time on it?

And this year, something magic happened. My 2003 NaNo doesn’t suck, it turns out, and the sequel idea I had and wrote this year doesn’t suck either. And on the last day, I had an idea for a third book in the series.

I’m going to edit and rewrite, and see if I can make something of these little babies. These little novels, who never would have seen the light of day if not for NaNoWriMo.

I try not to get too defensive when people harsh on NaNo. It’s been an enormous part of my life for the last ten years, and it’s never easy to hear people say that not only have I been wasting my time, I’ve been inviting and encouraging people to do something actively harmful to the art of writing.

But you know what? That may be true for those people, but it isn’t true for me. It isn’t true for the many friends I’ve made through NaNo, the people who’ve gone on to sell their NaNo novels, or the folks I’ve talked to at the Thank God It’s Over party. Even folks who “lose” tell me they had fun. The ones who sound sad they lost often brighten when I remind them that the words they wrote are still words that never would have existed if not for their attempt. Plus, even if their book sucked, well, then they know that sucked.

It’s like the story of Edison discovering ways not to invent the lightbulb. Sometimes you have to try and fail so that later you can find the thing that will work.

Or, as other people put it, you have to write a million words of crap before you start to write the stuff that’s really good.

NaNo lets people churn through the crap posthaste and get to the good stuff all the faster. I think that’s a good thing. Folks who beat themselves up or get too neurotic to finish or whatever can learn about their self-defeating habits.

We learn the most when we try to do the next to impossible. NaNoWriMo can be a tool of self-discovery. It can be a way to hone your craft. It can just be a way to meet other crazy writers in your area and have a hell of a lot of fun.

It’s not for everybody, but it’s definitely for me. I’m already looking forward to next year.

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