Wednesday whining

I am just not up for today, y’all.

Everyone I come in contact with is behaving exactly like they always do — family, kids, friends, the internet, everybody — and I just do NOT have the wherewithal to cope with humanity today. “I KNOW you always have this quirk,” I think at my loved ones, “but could you JUST NOT today???”

My house is still my house, being its normal house self. And yet, today, I am finding entropy to be ESPECIALLY tiresome and wearing. “I just want ONE THING to stay clean after I clean it,” I think piteously to myself.

I keep thinking that if I continue getting things done, marking stuff off my list, I will feel better.

Or, well, if I don’t feel better, at least the things will be done.

So far today I have:

done three loads of dishes
taught school to both kids
put away the groceries J bought
dehydrated onions
started dehydrating peas and carrots to further my homemade instant soup mix plan
cleaned off the dining room table (it’s already covered in stuff again, I think it was clean for less than six minutes, I’m feeling particularly oppressed by this one)
scrubbed the kitchen counters and sink
wiped off a splash of spilled food that has been on the ceiling of the basement stairway for a few weeks, no, I don’t know how it got there
tidied my room and made my bed
emailed people about a project update and followed through
made aloo makhani for lunch, which was very tasty
went to my tattoo consultation appointment (I will get the tattoo on February 16th, it’s going to be a Captain Marvel hala-star inside a Captain America shield, all blackwork, on my leg)
had homemade brownies with homemade whipped cream, while sipping tea

My to-do list is still really long.


Onwards and upwards.




Happy New Year, y’all!

Onwards and upwards.



New Year’s Eve, 2016


Hi, you.

It’s been kind of a year, right?

I know we’re all going to carry the shit from 2016 forward into 2017. It’s kinda unavoidable. The election. Our unpresidential president. Global fascism. Environmental degradation. I, personally, am on another kick of reading prepper books to prepare me for the apocalyptic future, despite the fact that I will not live long enough to need to know how to make my own soap.

And the deaths. The deaths, we’re going to carry forward. Either in the bleak blank holes in our hearts, or in our determination to live our lives more brightly to make up for the loss.

But there was good in 2016.

Just, off the top of my head, as I was thinking about this last night:

Beyonce released Lemonade and then performed it at the Superbowl.
Simone Biles.
Simone Manuel.
Hell, all the women of the Rio Olympics.
Scientists have found a vaccine for HIV. The nightmare disease that transformed my youth and young adulthood, the disease that made sex and desire a death sentence — we have found a vaccine.
Ilhan Omar is the first Somali-American elected to a legislature.
Hamilton, the musical.
Hamilton, the cast and their vibrant outspoken advocacy for everything good.
Giant pandas are no longer Endangered, but now merely Vulnerable. Again, this has been a feature of my LIFE. I knew that pandas would go extinct in my lifetime, I knew it. And here we are.
We have a cure for Ebola.
The ALS Ice Bucket Challenge of 2014 paid off, and we have discovered an ALS-related gene.
Malaria and child deaths are massively decreased worldwide, despite the catastrophic refugee crisis in the Middle East.

Here’s a huge list of more, if you need them.

On a personal note, I knit some GREAT things. My kids both had birthday parties they loved with friends that made them happy. Nothing major broke or went wrong in my house or with our cars. I got good performance reviews at work. I helped a trainee at work get through a tough spot and succeed. Two days ago I wrote a piece of fic for the first time in over a year. I went on a great vacation in March with J. My kids are doing well academically. We have security, shelter, money, health insurance, employment, and friends, and because of that I am in a position to sometimes help others or give to charities that could use a hand. Friends and acquaintances of mine had some lovely successes in publishing, awards, and accolades.

The sun is shining through the window onto my computer as I write this. Tonight we’ll eat good food, light fireworks, watch movies, and see 2016 out the door.

See you in the new year, all.

Onwards and upwards.



Art of resistance

The thing about fighting evil, she said, as if we’d been having this conversation all along, is that there are SO MANY fronts on which we have to fight.

We have to fight the political — call elected officials, show up at local council meetings, run for office, write local papers, stay informed.

We have to fight the media and the presentation — criticizing the normalization of hatred, calling out collaboration.

We have to fight the local bigotry — demanding police justice, boycotting local businesses, petitioning libraries and schools.

We have to remain alert in-person — staying vigilant for hate attacks, protecting ourselves or being good allies, using what privilege we have to draw fire from those who have less.

All of those are reactions. All of them are responses to terrible things. They ALL need doing.

But we also need to make the world we WANT to be living in. We create the future by the lives we lead today. So what future do we want? We have to make it.

That’s where art comes in.

Art can speak truth to power.
Art can dream of better days.
Art can remember the dead and missing.
Art can hold to identity and selfhood.
Art can shape a new humanity.
Art can respond, ignore, or converse.
Art can rage, hope, cry, and dance, sometimes all at once.

What do you make? What future are you creating? Are you raising children to be good human beings? That’s certainly an art. Are you writing fanfic celebrating the loves and lives you yearn for? That’s art. Are you publishing books, stories, histories, guides, novellas? Art. Weaving, knitting, sewing, clothing and creating new tangible works in the world? That’s art.

I could go on. You *know* what you do. You know what you CAN do. We need you. We need your voice, your hands, your unique vision of the world you want to make. Whatever part you are playing, you are *needed*.

No one of us can save the world. That’s a popular myth, a damaging myth, a damning myth, and it will not help us now. The world is only ever saved by millions of ordinary people living ordinary lives of hope, strength, and resistance against evil. Do your part. Share your recipe for stew, donate your knitting to the homeless, choreograph your dance, post your fanvid, plant your garden, write your poem, paint your vision, host your podcast.

Make your art.

Live your life.




Travelers (tv series 2016)

So I’m watching Travelers on NetFlix, and all I can think is that the casting directors (Maureen Webb and Colleen Bolton) are bloody geniuses. Because all the leads look like someone else, some other, more famous, actor.

We have Not Scarlett Johannsson

Not Lyndie Greenwood

Eric McCormack, who is probably famous enough to get his own recognition, but who I keep thinking of as Not James D’Arcy

Not Dylan O’Brian

And Reilly Dolman whose outfit and hair in the opening episodes reminds me of Foggy Nelson as a college student in the flashbacks in Daredevil.

The showrunner is Brad Wright, of many many Stargate franchise credits, and it’s a fun ride so far!



Carrie Fisher is dead and I am crying at work

– choking Jabba to death, with rage and the chains of her prison, but no fear

– I didn’t understand her cameo in the Blues Brothers, but I liked it

– her snark in Soapdish was eternal and amazing

– how many movies and shows did she script doctor? How many? Tens, dozens, of the movies of my youth and young adulthood were funnier, snappier, kinder, more human, because of her and I never knew it

– I watched Postcards from the Edge an easy half-dozen times in college

– never ashamed

– Bianca in Scream 3 was perfect, everything I could have wanted

– the press tour for The Force Awakens

– Gary Fisher

– Twitter

– never ashamed

Carrie Fisher was a role model, and honest to God human being we could aspire to be like. She earned every damn bit of grace she possessed, earned it by fucking everything in her life up over and over and then clawing her way into being a better person.

She was a better person.

She was a snarky, complicated, deeply flawed, wonderful person. An amazing writer. A fantastic performer. Her honesty in all things was breathtaking and inspiring.

When I say I want to grow up to be a Crone, to be a Baba Yaga, to be Cordelia Vorkosigan, what I mean is I want to be like Carrie Fisher.

Rest in peace, General. We really could have used your leadership in the next few fights. But we’ll go forward, on your behalf.



The mixed feelings of Yuletide

I defaulted on Yuletide this year.

It’s the first year I’ve done so, and I did it legally and ahead of schedule, and I have in fact READ a fic which I *believe* is the pinch-hit for my defaulted-on recipient. So that’s all good. But I still feel bad.

I feel bad especially because I GOT AN AMAZING FIC.

We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For

Oh, ANON, you are the BEST.

It’s a Claire Temple fic from the MCUNetFlix, with Claire’s life and how she gets to be the person she is, and how she, well —

“There’s always a war, Claire. Every minute of every day, someone somewhere is fighting. Heroes are defined by what they’re fighting for.” He sits down next to her, propping his wrists on his knees. “Every battle needs a healer, baby girl. It’s not always about going after the bad guy. Sometimes it’s just fixing whatever the bad guy has broken.”

Yeah. That.