I just got a look at myself in the bathroom mirror, and I look like Snow White. I've got that pale skin/dark hair combo that makes any redness in your face really stand out, and my cheeks are currently a deep, deep flaming scarlet color. It's pretty impressive, actually. Not a color you'd expect to find on people. I think my face is probably chapped from standing outside in the below-freezing wind-chill-o-rama weather (in Central Texas! It's the apocalypse!) for 20 minutes this morning as I chipped ice off my windshield with a spatula. 101 Creative Uses for Kitchen Implements, that's me.
I felt like writing, but it turns out I'm too tired to organize my thoughts.
The Hubster was able to recover all of my files. I am deeply grateful.
Felt like a total asshole after writing that last entry, but when I went back and looked at it today it didn't seem quite as awful as I remembered. I guess that's good. Except now I'm worrying about whether I like Lana because she acts like a girl's "supposed" to act, and dislike Chloe because she doesn't. Except...no, I'm not totally fucking programmed by society. Chloe just pisses me off. I don't know. I think it's her smugness that bothers me more than anything; I like that she's smart, and that she doesn't mind showing that she's smart, but her attitude while she's doing it...gah. Are we supposed to give you cookies for knowing how to run an internet search?
I realize that I am conflicted about this subject.
I am open to the show giving me a reason to groove on her.
Shutting up.
This weekend has been made up of both the heads and the tails of the coin toss.
Heads:
*Talked for a long while with my Australian buddy LH. (Hi, L!) I've never felt much of an age difference between us (it's a compliment, hon; you are four years younger), but speaking with her this morning I realized that I couldn't feel a difference hardly at all. She's going off to Canberra for a summer research project, and it all sounds so fresh and exciting. Almost makes me miss grad school. Briefly calculated whether I could scrape up the money and the time off in order to fly out there and accompany her on her cross-country car trip back home in February. It would be reminiscent of our drive from Florida to Texas when she visited two years ago, and I'd love to see the country. Her description of southern Australia puts me in mind of both California wine country and what I imagine Italy to be--vineyards and rolling hills and long low houses, with long dusty roads stretching between. It sounds beautiful, and I would love to go, but...sometimes you need to take a long car trip by yourself. Sometimes you don't get a lot of chances for that, and I'd hate to take one away from her. Next time.
*Saw The Endurance, a documentary film about Earnest Shackleton's failed quest to cross Antarctica on foot. Beautiful.
*Bought a Billy Idol CD.
*Hanging out in the Half Price Books while we waited for the movie to start yesterday, I was idly sifting through the used CD rack when I came across Webb Wilder's doo dad. Okay. I desperately wanted this CD, yet couldn't find it on amazon. Not only did I find it in this store totally by chance, but it cost me $5.45 and so far it is Grade A-mazing. I am thrilled.
*Ran 12.5 miles yesterday with no particular problem. Only minimal stiffness today. I'm...surprised and pleased by how well my body seems to be taking to distance running.
*New mattress!
Tails:
*My computer is dead. It is possible that the Hubster will be unable to recover any of my files. Many of them are crap, but there's a lot of stuff on there that I wrote that I'd miss. There are six pages of a Sentinel story that I was never going to finish, but that I sometimes would reread when I needed a grin. Not to mention the other unfinished stuff that I can't even remember.
*My car's acting weird, which probably means I'll have to spend money on it soon.
*The Hubster's caught my cold.
*There are dirty pumpkin and pecan pie plates all over the house.
*Laundry.
*I'm unable to locate a Clark/Lex story I want to read. I just emailed the author for help and she said it was on the mailing list. I've checked the mailing list. Am I blind? Missing the secret password? Bah.
Turns out that I called that conversation with coworker GG almost to the letter. Heh.
Happy late Thanksgiving to all you Americans. I had a pleasant day yesterday, and was actually able to get out of my head long enough to be thankful for that. I also am extremely thankful for my renter's insurance, because they're going to cover most of the cost of replacing the mattress. Ever since it got wet last Thursday it's reeked of mold, and everybody we've talked to says that there's really no way to deep clean a mattress, so it's toast. Highly unfortunate, since we'd had it less than four months. But I tell you, right now I just want the damn thing out of my house. I'm sick again, and I'm a bit afraid that it's because of the extremely high mold content in both my home and workplace. I've never had allergies, but I bet I could damn well develop them given prolonged high-intensity exposure to known allergens. Right now I've got a minor cold, which is no big deal, and an itchy, dry, itchy itchy cough, which is a killer. I spent the hours from 4:30 to 6:30am last night coughing my fool head off, to the point where the poor Hubster ended up moving to a sleeping bag on the floor of the computer room. Normally if I was coughing that much I would go downstairs and sleep on the futon, but since the mattress is toast and we were already sleeping on the futon, the poor bastard had to go looking for floor space at 5:45am. But the new mattress is getting delivered tonight, and the claims guy said he'd cut me a check for most of it, so things are looking up.
I keep thinking about the comments a few people have made in relation to slasher misogyny and fan reaction to Lana, and...
Mein Gott. I cannot get to any of the posts about which I wish to comment. That is fucking annoying.
Flying blind here: I've just been thinking recently about Lana and Chloe and misogyny and the "sin" of feminization of male characters and the lack of popular interest in femmeslash, and the whole winding discussion makes me kind of squirm around uncomfortably, because dude, I know what that blatant disrespect for your own sex feels like. I feel like I should be waving people into my market stall: "Misogyny? I got your misogyny right here!"
That's probably a little strong, but my point is that the insta-hatred of female characters, as Maygra puts it, bothers me so damn much because I recognize it in myself and I hate it. I've never particularly identified with female characters in books or the media. I'm more comfortable viewing women as sexual objects rather than partners and friends. I don't know what to do with female characters. There was a "why I write slash" essay I read ages ago (can't remember the author, sorry) wherein the author described an experience she had with an "epic" written when she was 12 or 13. A friend read this epic over and asked why none of the characters in it happened to be female. The author said she remembered thinking about this quite seriously, and then answering that she didn't want any of her characters to be in love. That was the only reason she could see for including women in her story: to be the love interest. Writing as an adult, she expressed how appalled she was to think of her attitudes as a child, but I...totally got it. I remember being like that, thinking like that. When I was a kid I always wanted to be a boy, or be like what I thought a boy should be, although I was mostly too shy to pull it off. (I feel like I should mention that I interpret this purely as an internalization of societal values, and not as, say, a case of gender misassignment). Apparently I'd figured out that guys were the ones who had it going on, and as a little kid I didn't bother trying to be a cool little girl who was just as good as a guy, I just went straight for the qualities that said "guy" to me. Strength. Anger. Power. Energy. Girls didn't have those.
This isn't something that pleases me. It's an attitude of mine that I hate, and I fight it every time I meet a girl who's smart, or more confident than me, or who can do something I can't. I'm not proud of it, by any means. But I do know where people are coming from when they look at Lana and see her as a waste of space. (Although I happen to like Lana. She's kind to people (Clark, BugBoy, ShapeShifta) who aren't necessarily easy to like, and the actress really sold me on her portrayal of guilty-yet-trying-to-justify-it-to-herself-because-she's-hurt Lana when Whitney confronted her about the concert. It's Chloe who drives me batshit. I'm trying not to hate her just because she's a mouthy girl, I swear I am, but damn does she frost my shorts. Her smugness and seemingly constant need to deflate Clark or Pete's egos just drives me up a wall. Paradoxically, that means this is the actress who impresses me the most. She's probably the only one of the main cast who I really believe could be fifteen, because that's such a fifteen-year-old way to be).
Happiness is knowing that in approximately eight minutes there will be screencaps of Lex in the rain of blood somewhere on the net.
Tomorrow I will go to work and have enthusiastic, high volume, non-intellectually challenging discussions of tonight's episode with my coworker, GG. I can already predict how these conversations will go, because he called me during the commercial break right after Clark got stabbed.
Me: Heeeeeey! How about that rain of blood?
GG: That was so freaky when Lex touched that flower and then everything died! And he had those slick leather gloves on (envious sucking-breath-in-through-teeth noises).
Me: Yeah! And the rain of blood!
GG: But the coolest thing was when that dude tried to stab Superboy and the knife shattered into like twenty pieces. That was just like The Matrix, man, it was so awesome! (Enthusiastic re-enactment of the knife scene, and possibly parts of The Matrix).
Me: Yeah! I want a big poster of Lex in the rain of blood for over my desk.
Lordy. I think one of the biggest perks of Smallville for me is that I actually have people besides the long-suffering Hubster to discuss it with. I don't watch Friends, or Survivor, or ER, or any of the other big crowd pleasers, so I've never really had a water cooler show before. GG hasn't got the most, uh, layered outlook on Smallville, but I'm still really enjoying discussing it with him. Loudly. With copious hand gestures.
The Hubster returns home amid much rejoicing. Also, bearing many, many gifts. My current dilemma goes something like, "Which really cool new shirt should I wear tomorrow?"
Did something kind of skeezy. That Thanksgiving party I was supposed to go to? I was there for a grand total of 15 minutes--just long enough to eat some stuffing and cranberry sauce and say hi to BGR. Then I dumped my plate in the trash and walked out. Didn't say goodbye or anything. I just...I dunno. When I've done this sort of thing in the past, it's been motivated by intense, unbearable anxiety or awkwardness with the situation, the kind of thing where I try to picture staying long enough to be polite and it's like walls closing in on my brain. I didn't feel particularly uncomfortable at this party, just...I walked down the hill to BGR's patio, and it was thronging with other members of her math graduate program, all drinking beer and standing around in the damp. I knew no one, the food was cold and unappealing, there was nowhere dry to sit, and I simply did not care to be there. So I left.
Wow. I forgot I still had my eye makeup on from the wedding, and I just rubbed my tired, watery eyes. Now I look like a damn rentboy. Must purchase waterproof mascara.
Came home and spent the evening reading through the Smallville slash archive; some of the fic's quite well done and some of it's clearly people's Lex jerk-off fantasies. Bleh. Although I did have my own moment of bone-deep Lex empathy recently; standing in line at the McDonald's while the Hubster picked up supplies at the grocery next door, I looked up to see a father walk in with his teenage son and felt my mouth go dry. The kid couldn't have been more than 16, but tall with the broad frame and those rangy hips you see on teenage boys. Crewcut, smooth blunt cheekbones, and impossibly smooth jawline...He had on dirty jeans and a ball cap and sneakers with the laces undone, and I couldn't stop sneaking glances at him. Not my type at all, and even looking at him gave me the bad pedophile vibe, but all I could think was look at the pretty farmboy. Man. It was like a punch to the gut.
Going to bed. The Hubster comes home tomorrow evening; there will be much rejoicing.
I went to a wedding this morning. It was a young woman from my church group whom I know casually; I actually know her mother better. The ceremony was lovely, and it was rather a treat for me to see, because the bride attended my wedding and specifically told me that they'd patterned a lot of their ceremony off of ours. Since most of my wedding passed in a haze of high-grade nervousness, it was nice to get an idea of what it must have been like. The reception was also most enjoyable, and the food was amazing. I'm not exactly sure of the present religious affiliation of the groom--when I first met him a year or so ago he was a practicing Hare Krishna, but I believe he no longer considers himself one--but he still follows many if not all of the Hare Krishna dietary guidelines. Much of the food was vegan, and a great portion of it was fabulous Indian cuisine, which I love but almost never get to eat. So I ate as much like a starving animal as my skirt waistline would permit.
Am supposed to be making an appearance at my friend BGR's pre-Thanksgiving party right now. I'm wiped out from staying out till 3am at the movie last night, plus from eating at the wedding, but I know how hard she worked to put the party together so I really need to show up. Besides, I saw the movie with BGR, so I can't exactly use fatigue as an excuse.
This has certainly been a colorful week. Wednesday was the kind of day where I wanted to come home and bathe in Clorox (I almost wrote "sterilize myself," but that made me think of going to the vet), yet in a kind of good way. What happened was my 2:15 kid, LC, rides the facility bus in from school and the instant I see him in the transportation office I can tell something's happened, because he just reeks. He'd clearly had an accident, but he isn't saying anything about it. So I kind of pussyfoot around it, because he's five-ish and old enough to potentially be embarassed, but I take him into the big wheelchair accessible bathroom where we have a changing table with spare clothes, and just start looking for new pants. Apparently at 5 years old the size you wear is very important, because he was insistent that, "I wear seven and a half, Sara! When I was four years old I was going to Mrs. So-and-so's class and I was wearing size 6, but now I'm big, right? And I wear seven and a half!" Size notwithstanding, we find some pants and underwear that are acceptable, but it turns out he can't actually change in that bathroom because the toilet's blocked up with the nasty plunger still sticking out of it, and I don't want to risk him handling anything. So we troop down the hall to the other client bathroom, and once we get in there he just kind of blurts out the story of how he was on the playground and he had to go but he didn't ask the teacher and then "my poop came out too fast." Then I give him baby wipes to clean up with and he changes, and I snap on the latex and try to get his old clothes in reasonable condition to go home, and that story is too graphic to relate. Just...yuck. Then I'm sterilizing the area and making him wash his hands six or eight times and he says, "After I go to college I'm going to work at [your facitily] and when people make a mess I'm going to clean it up." At first I thought he meant he wanted to be a janitor, but then I looked down at myself with the gloves and the disinfectant, and I realized he was saying he wanted to be like me. A speech therapist, in all possible permutations. God. I thought I would burst with thankfulness. Every sappy Halmark quote you've ever read about the challenge being worth it if you make a difference in the life of a child? They're all true.
Yesterday was kind of rough. A front dumped close to ten inches of rain on Central Texas, and we had tornados and flash flooding and all kinds of severe weather. Spent an hour and a half in the basement of our building with my client and the rest of the staff following a tornado sighting--and how fucking stupid is it that we have to take test after test on our facility emergency plans, but when an actual emergency weather situation occurs, we find out because the OT's sister calls her on her cell phone? The plumbing chose yesterday to back up, possibly due to the flash flooding, so not only were we huddled in the humid windowless basement offices, but we got an up-close view of the maintenance guys wading around in sewage overflow. The big boss finally closed the facility at about 4:45, so I drove home through heavy traffic and intense, scary thunderstorms to find out that our roof leaks right over my side of the bed. It's a small leak, thank God, and I was planning to sleep downstairs anyway because of tornado watch, but without the Hubster and kicked out of my own bed I felt displaced and alone. Watched three back-to-back episodes of Smallville in an effort at escapism, interspersed with the Weather Channel. Again found myself crying through the teaser of the pilot episode. I still don't quite know why.
Didn't have to go to work until 11:15, but I saw kids this afternoon even though I question the wisdom of treating in a building that's a potential health hazard. Going out shortly to meet some friends and eat and see a midnight showing of Blackbelt Jones, which I am really looking forward to.
The Hubster comes back Sunday evening. I miss him.
I just reread my last entry, which motherfucking blogger didn't post until today. I get kinda pretentious with a few beers in me, don't I?
I haven't written in what feels like forever, to the point where I don't think I can handle a cohesive entry. Instead, I'm making a list of memory snippets that I want to hang on to. Roughly in chronological order:
*Spent the weekend before last camping at Lake Canyon with the Hubster for the Wurstfest Regatta. We were on the grounds of the Lake Canyon Yacht Club, so it wasn't roughing it by any means; however, camping has always been a bit of a hassle for me because of my contacts. Every time I have to put them in by makeup mirror, or stumble blindly through the woods in the middle of the night to get to the bathroom, that laser eye surgery sounds more attractive. I think there's a good chance I'd really get into camping if I could see.
*Enjoyed the regatta. As I wasn't sailing, I spent the majority of the weekend lying around reading without feeling like I should be doing housework instead. Ran 9.5 miles by myself that Saturday, and got a noticeable sunburn on my face while doing it. The only downside was sometime on Saturday, when I looked up from my book and realized that there were no non-white people within at least a five mile radius. Wondered if I would be a bad person if I liked a sport geared almost exclusively toward upper-middle class white folk.
*Celebrated my 6-month wedding aniversary last Monday.
*Sat in a coffee shop at 6:30am Friday morning and drank in the changing sky.
*Pulled up at a stoplight this weekend and realized that the bed of the pickup in front of me was full of plastic coolers, and out of each cooler stuck the heads of two or three bucks. I assume the rest of the deer bodies were also in the coolers, but all I could see were the heads with their dead eyes.
*Bought the cutest damn shoes ever yesterday--burgundy with chunky soles. They look kind of like bowling shoes, except cooler.
*There was a brief segment on NPR this morning on the 12th century Middle Eastern mystic poet Rumi. The featured expert was some guy with a deep voice and a honey-thick drawl, and something about this Bubba guy reading the ecstatic words of a poet from pre-Afghanistan made me teary. And...hopeful.
*When I heard that the official word was that the plane crash in New York this morning was an isolated event, my first reaction was relief. Not horror for the 200-some people on board, but relief that it was an accident. I wish I could apologize to those 200 people for that.
That's it for now, except for a brief note. What I was going on about last entry about fandom and security issues boils down to this: I have recognized for a while that I use fandom and fan participation more or less as a safety zone--it's my escape hatch from the rest of my life. But lately I've started to wonder why exactly it is that I need such a damn big safety zone. Perhaps later I'll think more about this.
The subtitle for this entry should be: Sara perpetuates a bad habit, i.e. more blogging while lit.
The Hubster is in China until next Sunday, something I have neglected to mention here in the hopes that not thinking about it would make it not be true. I guess we see where that gets you. Anyway, he works as a product engineer for a major computer company, and it happens that they have a plant outside of Shanghai where they are starting production on a part he's familiar with. So he and about five other guys flew out there to teach some classes on how to make the part. He left yesterday morning at some ungodly hour of the morning (I had to get up at 4:40 to drive him to the airport), and so far he's left a couple of messages indicating that he's reached the plant alive and intact. I continue to be torn between desperate jealousy and dread. I really want to go with him, yet I really don't care for him to be out of the country at the moment. Wish us both luck, please.
Luckily, I have cool friends in my hour of need. C and S called to see if they could take me to the Alamo Drafthouse for a showing of Hedwig and the Angry Inch this evening. Aral, I don't think it really resonated with me the way it did with you, but it was a damn cool movie, and I still enjoyed it very much. Also (and this is really shallow, but so be it) I seem to have proved my hypothesis about drinking as a long distance runner. To wit: I seem to be unable to get more than just barely tipsy when I am well hydrated. Usually this is just fine--as I have mentioned before, I am paranoid about hydration and don't drink much of anything besides water anyway. But dammit, sometimes you just need to drink some beer and act silly, and it's really frustrating when you drink beer after beer until you're sick of it and still can't get drunk. That's what happened to me at the Halloween party, and it was a real drag. But this week I have been poorly hydrated, which culminated in a really crappy 7.5 miles this morning (it was supposed to be 9.5, but the coach told me to forget the last two, I was struggling so much), but did allow me to get tipsy with C and S this evening. I had to drink a hell of a lot of beer to get there, but at least it was possible.
Coming tomorrow: events of the past week and a half, plus meditations on fandom and security issues. And probably complaints about my hangover.
