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2003-11-30
My funny cat, my two jobs, and chicken noodle rice
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-08-19 - 2:47 a.m.)
Second day, and another entry! Go me! :-D I might actually be able to do this dairy thing yet!
SETTING: Whew! Still pretty hot; though it's cooled down quite a bit outside, the studio is very warm and the Apple G4 persists in crashing and freezing. What a little hothouse (or is that coldhouse?) flower it's turned out to be... we might have to switch the painting onto the Power Mac 8600/200, which would be horribly slow and would pretty much kill any hope of working the "Girl Genius" pages in layers of color, highlight, shadow, multiply, etc.
THE CATS: I haven't told you anything about my cats yet, but for the purposes of this story all you need to know is that Emmie, our little patched tabby with white tummy and feet, is an extraordinarily pretty feline with the brains of a budgie. Seriously. She is one of the weirdest cats I've ever seen, and I've seen quite a few in various degrees of strangeness.
Case in point: she has an uncanny ability to find the nearest electronic device and lie down on it, usually in such a way as to cause something undesirable to happen (muting the TV, causing the VCR to turn off when it should be recording, etc.). Today while my husband and I were talking on the phone, we heard a CRASH-click-click sound on the line -- a quick visual check on my husband's part confirmed that yes, Emmie had just knocked the extension in the dining room off of the bookshelf and was poking at it with a paw (presumably hearing our voices and trying to engage them, a behavior we'd seen from her before whenever our old answering machine went off).
Less than five seconds later, a piercing BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP sound filled the line: Emmie had decided that since she couldn't make the little people come out of the phone to play with her, she would sit down on the keypad instead... *sigh*, I love her dearly, but sometimes I'm convinced that she is a badly designed attempt by an alien species to infiltrate human culture!
Remind me to tell you the story about Emmie and our cream-and-sugar set... er, sets. Smashy smashy! Gravity works! Wheeee! =^_^=
MY JOB AS AN ARTIST: As mentioned, our graphics machine is having temper tantrums because of the heat and humidity. With any luck and a bit of jiggering with the memory sticks, we hope to have it back up and running by tomorrow so I can go back to painting "Girl Genius". By the way, here's a link to Agatha Heterodyne and the Electric Coffin, and 8-page story I did as a test to land the coloring job. It's a fantastic book by Phil and Kaja Foglio (fan favorites indeed), so I highly encourage anyone who likes Romance, Adventure, and Mad Science to check it out.
MY OTHER JOB: Ah, yes, Ipsos-Reid -- company of the broad shoulders, hog-butcher to the... oh, wait, that's Chicago. Never mind.
*ahem* Ipsos-Reid is a company specializing in global marketing research and public opinion polling. I work there as a Level Two telephone interviewer three evenings a week, because it's work I can do easily, the pay is pretty good ($9.25/hr at my current stage), and it's regular money to supplement my profitable but erratic freelance art career. The company is actually quite pleasant to work for, and the surveys are often very interesting. (Note to self: never, NEVER try to conduct a farm survey at harvest time, which is what I-R is trying to do right now. Nobody can/will talk to you. And this is the project I've been on for the last three days. Gack.)
MISCELLANEA: Helped a small flock of tourists from out-of-town find their way to a downtown mall (one of them promised that if I came to Ottawa, he'd help me out too, lol). Went out for late coffee with my friends Michelle (aka Northlight, very cool artist and one of the players in my A.I. roleplaying game) and Corey (more about him in another entry, since he's impossible to condense in to seven words or less). Tonight Corey introduced me to the soundtrack to "Chicago" -- damn you, Corey, that's ANOTHER CD I have to buy now! Discovered that Liptons Chicken Noodle Soup mix, white rice, and frozen vegetables make an incredibly yummy porridge. See? Life DOESN'T stop when you reach 30! :-)
QUOTE: "If you can't say something nice, at least be eloquent in your criticism."
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-08-19 - 2:47 a.m.)
Second day, and another entry! Go me! :-D I might actually be able to do this dairy thing yet!
SETTING: Whew! Still pretty hot; though it's cooled down quite a bit outside, the studio is very warm and the Apple G4 persists in crashing and freezing. What a little hothouse (or is that coldhouse?) flower it's turned out to be... we might have to switch the painting onto the Power Mac 8600/200, which would be horribly slow and would pretty much kill any hope of working the "Girl Genius" pages in layers of color, highlight, shadow, multiply, etc.
THE CATS: I haven't told you anything about my cats yet, but for the purposes of this story all you need to know is that Emmie, our little patched tabby with white tummy and feet, is an extraordinarily pretty feline with the brains of a budgie. Seriously. She is one of the weirdest cats I've ever seen, and I've seen quite a few in various degrees of strangeness.
Case in point: she has an uncanny ability to find the nearest electronic device and lie down on it, usually in such a way as to cause something undesirable to happen (muting the TV, causing the VCR to turn off when it should be recording, etc.). Today while my husband and I were talking on the phone, we heard a CRASH-click-click sound on the line -- a quick visual check on my husband's part confirmed that yes, Emmie had just knocked the extension in the dining room off of the bookshelf and was poking at it with a paw (presumably hearing our voices and trying to engage them, a behavior we'd seen from her before whenever our old answering machine went off).
Less than five seconds later, a piercing BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP sound filled the line: Emmie had decided that since she couldn't make the little people come out of the phone to play with her, she would sit down on the keypad instead... *sigh*, I love her dearly, but sometimes I'm convinced that she is a badly designed attempt by an alien species to infiltrate human culture!
Remind me to tell you the story about Emmie and our cream-and-sugar set... er, sets. Smashy smashy! Gravity works! Wheeee! =^_^=
MY JOB AS AN ARTIST: As mentioned, our graphics machine is having temper tantrums because of the heat and humidity. With any luck and a bit of jiggering with the memory sticks, we hope to have it back up and running by tomorrow so I can go back to painting "Girl Genius". By the way, here's a link to Agatha Heterodyne and the Electric Coffin, and 8-page story I did as a test to land the coloring job. It's a fantastic book by Phil and Kaja Foglio (fan favorites indeed), so I highly encourage anyone who likes Romance, Adventure, and Mad Science to check it out.
MY OTHER JOB: Ah, yes, Ipsos-Reid -- company of the broad shoulders, hog-butcher to the... oh, wait, that's Chicago. Never mind.
*ahem* Ipsos-Reid is a company specializing in global marketing research and public opinion polling. I work there as a Level Two telephone interviewer three evenings a week, because it's work I can do easily, the pay is pretty good ($9.25/hr at my current stage), and it's regular money to supplement my profitable but erratic freelance art career. The company is actually quite pleasant to work for, and the surveys are often very interesting. (Note to self: never, NEVER try to conduct a farm survey at harvest time, which is what I-R is trying to do right now. Nobody can/will talk to you. And this is the project I've been on for the last three days. Gack.)
MISCELLANEA: Helped a small flock of tourists from out-of-town find their way to a downtown mall (one of them promised that if I came to Ottawa, he'd help me out too, lol). Went out for late coffee with my friends Michelle (aka Northlight, very cool artist and one of the players in my A.I. roleplaying game) and Corey (more about him in another entry, since he's impossible to condense in to seven words or less). Tonight Corey introduced me to the soundtrack to "Chicago" -- damn you, Corey, that's ANOTHER CD I have to buy now! Discovered that Liptons Chicken Noodle Soup mix, white rice, and frozen vegetables make an incredibly yummy porridge. See? Life DOESN'T stop when you reach 30! :-)
QUOTE: "If you can't say something nice, at least be eloquent in your criticism."
"A.I.", the mystery of Gigolo Joe, and Fan Fiction
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-08-19 - 11:44 p.m.)
SETTING: Holy Hannah! 36 degrees Celcius, with 45% humidity -- the cats are furry puddles, and my husband and I aren't doing much better. Thank the Gods for cold running water and solidly frozen Breyers chocolate ice cream! The government weather service says that there's supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight; I can only pray that for once, for a miracle, they've got it right.
GIGOLO JOE AND ALL THAT: To distract myself from the sweltering heat, I saw "A.I." for the 15th time tonight (watched on a DVD that I received direct from Universal Studios as a gift for running an A.I.-related contest on my website, "Clear and Haunting Visions"), and was amazed all over again by its dreamlike quality, its haunting luminosity, and its sheer physical beauty. As an artist, and a colorist in particular, I see craftsmanship lovingly rendered in every frame, in perfect configurations of setting, symbol, and emotional dynamic.
Haley Joel Osment is breathtaking as the child-Mecha David, whose tragic existence and relentless love for his "Mommy" spans the 2000-year arc of the story. As Monica, the mother David is imprinted upon, Frances O'Connor is tortured by grief for her lost son Martin, a pain that David's presence in her life helps to ease -- until Martin returns, and she finds herself torn between the needs of her real son and her love for David; the scene where she decides to abandon David in the forest rather than return him to Cybertronics for destruction is the most distressing few minutes I've ever witnessed in a movie, full of agonizing betrayal and naked, helpless anguish. Fifteen viewings later, I still find it difficult to watch.
The very next scene introduces Jude Law as the lover-robot Gigolo Joe. Following David and assisting him in his quest to become a "real boy" so that Monica will love him, Joe undergoes a similar arc of transformation and ultimately, a transcendence of his function that not even David can claim. Joe has always been my favorite character in the film, a trait I share with Matrix Refugee, another denizen here at Diaryland.com -- not just because he's gorgeous and agile and seductive, although of course he is all that, but because of his essential mystery.
David was designed to be "a Mecha of a qualitatively different order", to achieve "consciousness" through his programmed ability to love, and to desire things not because he is programmed to do so, but because his self-motivated reasoning guides him in that direction. Joe, designed to do none of this, nevertheless achieves it all in the course of his single night with David. His discourse in the hallway of the Dr. Know franchise on Mecha-Orga relations reveals a suprisingly sophisticated (and cynical) understanding of the nature of the world he inhabits, and where does his suggestion that David should remain with him in Rouge City rather than pursuing the Blue Fairy come from? There is something more at work behind his shining eyes when he tells David that "(Monica) does not love you, she cannot love you..." The subtext, partially expressed in speech, is "... but I, as a fellow Mecha, can keep you safe here -- with me." This is not the programmed behavior of a sex-Mecha, a Supertoy for adult human beings. This is something quite new, and beyond a robotic gigolo's supposed limitations.
Joe's final act in the film is one of self-sacrifice. His enigmatic coda as he is taken (presumably) to his destruction ("I am... I was!") is the statement of a self-aware being acknowledging both his existence and the fact that he is not going to exist much longer. Taken with the opening words of his third line in the film ("I think") it forms a Descartian triangle of "I think, therefore I am, therefore I was" -- and suddenly the whole becomes much more than the sum of its parts. Joe goes to his death transcendent, accepting it as the end result of his self-motivated actions in service to the child-Mecha responsible for his ascent to a higher state of being. In that respect, the mystery of Joe is a tragedy as well.
In my fan fiction tale "One Degree Of Separation" (NC-17), Joe ends up being owned by Professor Allen Hobby, the visionary who conceived the David project in the first place, precisely because the good Professor perceives that mystery and finds himself unable to let it go. Matrix Refugee also explores Joe's further development in "Fathering the Fatherless" (PG-13). (I do hope you'll check both stories out, and remember -- feedback is gold to fanfic writers! If you like them let us know by leaving a quick review!)
For more "A.I." fanfic, check out the page at the "Clear and Haunting Visions" website. The "A.I." catagory at Fanfiction.net has new stories added periodically, so it's a good place to keep an eye on. Careful, though! It only automatically displays G to PG13 rated fics; I’d advise changing the ratings filter to All instead.
OTHER FAN FICTION NEWS: Yahoooo! I just found a site that archives "Rabbits!" (NC-17,), a "Reboot" story and the most delightful piece of Bob/Megabyte slash I've ever read. :-) Yes, you read that right: Bob and Megabyte. Oh, my... I get tears of laughter just thinking about it, as well as that certain glow that comes from reading a really, REALLY hot piece of slashfic.
Speaking of slashfic -- a recent and wonderfully kind review of "One Degree of Separation" has inspired me to take up the Hobby/Joe pairing again. I'd written a couple of short bits and posted them to the AI_Fanfiction mailing list , but time constraints and a sneaking suspicion that I was way behind the new pack of "A.I." fanfic writers in terms of quality and interestingness (that I was, in short, "old news") made me reluctant to take it up again. We'll see...
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "Where are we going, and why are we in this handbasket?" (The Hellbound ;-))
TOMORROW'S ENTRY: Thoughts on "One Degree", Roleplaying, and Wicca
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-08-19 - 11:44 p.m.)
SETTING: Holy Hannah! 36 degrees Celcius, with 45% humidity -- the cats are furry puddles, and my husband and I aren't doing much better. Thank the Gods for cold running water and solidly frozen Breyers chocolate ice cream! The government weather service says that there's supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight; I can only pray that for once, for a miracle, they've got it right.
GIGOLO JOE AND ALL THAT: To distract myself from the sweltering heat, I saw "A.I." for the 15th time tonight (watched on a DVD that I received direct from Universal Studios as a gift for running an A.I.-related contest on my website, "Clear and Haunting Visions"), and was amazed all over again by its dreamlike quality, its haunting luminosity, and its sheer physical beauty. As an artist, and a colorist in particular, I see craftsmanship lovingly rendered in every frame, in perfect configurations of setting, symbol, and emotional dynamic.
Haley Joel Osment is breathtaking as the child-Mecha David, whose tragic existence and relentless love for his "Mommy" spans the 2000-year arc of the story. As Monica, the mother David is imprinted upon, Frances O'Connor is tortured by grief for her lost son Martin, a pain that David's presence in her life helps to ease -- until Martin returns, and she finds herself torn between the needs of her real son and her love for David; the scene where she decides to abandon David in the forest rather than return him to Cybertronics for destruction is the most distressing few minutes I've ever witnessed in a movie, full of agonizing betrayal and naked, helpless anguish. Fifteen viewings later, I still find it difficult to watch.
The very next scene introduces Jude Law as the lover-robot Gigolo Joe. Following David and assisting him in his quest to become a "real boy" so that Monica will love him, Joe undergoes a similar arc of transformation and ultimately, a transcendence of his function that not even David can claim. Joe has always been my favorite character in the film, a trait I share with Matrix Refugee, another denizen here at Diaryland.com -- not just because he's gorgeous and agile and seductive, although of course he is all that, but because of his essential mystery.
David was designed to be "a Mecha of a qualitatively different order", to achieve "consciousness" through his programmed ability to love, and to desire things not because he is programmed to do so, but because his self-motivated reasoning guides him in that direction. Joe, designed to do none of this, nevertheless achieves it all in the course of his single night with David. His discourse in the hallway of the Dr. Know franchise on Mecha-Orga relations reveals a suprisingly sophisticated (and cynical) understanding of the nature of the world he inhabits, and where does his suggestion that David should remain with him in Rouge City rather than pursuing the Blue Fairy come from? There is something more at work behind his shining eyes when he tells David that "(Monica) does not love you, she cannot love you..." The subtext, partially expressed in speech, is "... but I, as a fellow Mecha, can keep you safe here -- with me." This is not the programmed behavior of a sex-Mecha, a Supertoy for adult human beings. This is something quite new, and beyond a robotic gigolo's supposed limitations.
Joe's final act in the film is one of self-sacrifice. His enigmatic coda as he is taken (presumably) to his destruction ("I am... I was!") is the statement of a self-aware being acknowledging both his existence and the fact that he is not going to exist much longer. Taken with the opening words of his third line in the film ("I think") it forms a Descartian triangle of "I think, therefore I am, therefore I was" -- and suddenly the whole becomes much more than the sum of its parts. Joe goes to his death transcendent, accepting it as the end result of his self-motivated actions in service to the child-Mecha responsible for his ascent to a higher state of being. In that respect, the mystery of Joe is a tragedy as well.
In my fan fiction tale "One Degree Of Separation" (NC-17), Joe ends up being owned by Professor Allen Hobby, the visionary who conceived the David project in the first place, precisely because the good Professor perceives that mystery and finds himself unable to let it go. Matrix Refugee also explores Joe's further development in "Fathering the Fatherless" (PG-13). (I do hope you'll check both stories out, and remember -- feedback is gold to fanfic writers! If you like them let us know by leaving a quick review!)
For more "A.I." fanfic, check out the page at the "Clear and Haunting Visions" website. The "A.I." catagory at Fanfiction.net has new stories added periodically, so it's a good place to keep an eye on. Careful, though! It only automatically displays G to PG13 rated fics; I’d advise changing the ratings filter to All instead.
OTHER FAN FICTION NEWS: Yahoooo! I just found a site that archives "Rabbits!" (NC-17,), a "Reboot" story and the most delightful piece of Bob/Megabyte slash I've ever read. :-) Yes, you read that right: Bob and Megabyte. Oh, my... I get tears of laughter just thinking about it, as well as that certain glow that comes from reading a really, REALLY hot piece of slashfic.
Speaking of slashfic -- a recent and wonderfully kind review of "One Degree of Separation" has inspired me to take up the Hobby/Joe pairing again. I'd written a couple of short bits and posted them to the AI_Fanfiction mailing list , but time constraints and a sneaking suspicion that I was way behind the new pack of "A.I." fanfic writers in terms of quality and interestingness (that I was, in short, "old news") made me reluctant to take it up again. We'll see...
QUOTE OF THE DAY: "Where are we going, and why are we in this handbasket?" (The Hellbound ;-))
TOMORROW'S ENTRY: Thoughts on "One Degree", Roleplaying, and Wicca
(originally posted on Diaryland, 2003-08-20 - 11:09 p.m.
To recap the title of this entry:
"Rain! HUZZAH!!!"
And that's about all, lol... lightning still flashes on the horizon, so it's not a good idea to linger too long online. I'll have to get around to the next promised topics -- Thoughts on "One Degree", A.I.: Artificial Intelligence Roleplaying, and Wicca -- tomorrow.
The good news, of course, is that the thunderstorm broke the obscene heatwave that's had us locked in its grip for the past several days. It's now 20 degrees Celcius instead of 36 degrees C, and promises to get downright chilly tonight (bliss, sheer blisssssssssss!) -- heck, maybe the G4 will actually work tomorrow.
Now, the promised link: "The Infamous Exploding Whale of Oregon County". No, I'm NOT making it up. It's a true story of sustained, and I mean actively, thoughtfully SUSTAINED human stupidity -- complete with the video of the newscast that documents it in all its horror. In my books, it ranks right up there on the Strange-O-Meter with The Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919... but that's a story for another time.
QUOTE: "I'm singin' in the rain, just singin' in the rain, what a glorious feeling, I'm happy again!" -- Fred Astaire
(Er... what are these strange little characters I'm seeing after the entry? If anyone can solve the mystery, please let me know...)
To recap the title of this entry:
"Rain! HUZZAH!!!"
And that's about all, lol... lightning still flashes on the horizon, so it's not a good idea to linger too long online. I'll have to get around to the next promised topics -- Thoughts on "One Degree", A.I.: Artificial Intelligence Roleplaying, and Wicca -- tomorrow.
The good news, of course, is that the thunderstorm broke the obscene heatwave that's had us locked in its grip for the past several days. It's now 20 degrees Celcius instead of 36 degrees C, and promises to get downright chilly tonight (bliss, sheer blisssssssssss!) -- heck, maybe the G4 will actually work tomorrow.
Now, the promised link: "The Infamous Exploding Whale of Oregon County". No, I'm NOT making it up. It's a true story of sustained, and I mean actively, thoughtfully SUSTAINED human stupidity -- complete with the video of the newscast that documents it in all its horror. In my books, it ranks right up there on the Strange-O-Meter with The Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919... but that's a story for another time.
QUOTE: "I'm singin' in the rain, just singin' in the rain, what a glorious feeling, I'm happy again!" -- Fred Astaire
(Er... what are these strange little characters I'm seeing after the entry? If anyone can solve the mystery, please let me know...)
(originally posted on Diaryland, 2003-08-23 - 1:10 a.m.)
SETTING: The heatwave broke a couple of days ago, as mentioned... the G4 is now working again, but only on one partition, grrrr... time to reformat!
And now to get around to three topics I promised to deal with several days ago: Thoughts on "One Degree", Roleplaying (specifically the online “A.I.: Artificial Intelligence” RP), and Wicca. I’ll deal with them each in a separate entry. First up:
"ONE DEGREE OF SEPARATION": In spite of the recent cooler temperatures, all it takes to raise my thermostat is thinking about Professor Hobby and Gigolo Joe. *sigh* Oh, well, if you can't beat em... write about em. A recent positive review brought this story back to my attention, and it IS my diary, no? So writing about what’s on my mind is certainly allowed.
"One Degree Of Separation" is fan fiction. It is rated NC-17, and is a slashfic involving Professor Allen Hobby and the lover-robot Gigolo Joe from the “A.I.: Artificial Intelligence” movie universe. It is also, by far, the single piece of fan fiction that has brought me the most praise in my seven years of posting fan fiction to the internet. In fact, the reviews have sometimes been glowing to the point of “Oh, my God, did I really write that?” (peers a story again) “Well, shucks... I guess I did.”
If you haven't read ""One Degree Of Separation" yet, I sugget you do -- it will certainly give you a much better idea of what this rambling is about. If not, hey, you can always skip on to the next entry. ;-) Scroll on down, and enjoy.
Still with me? Okay, then, here we go.
Whole essays have been written about why "slash" (fan fiction featuring sexual or romantic contact between two same-sex characters, ie: Kirk/Spock, Danger Mouse/Penfold, Batman/Superman, and so on) is so popular, and why so many women as opposed to men indulge in it.
There are several excellent articles linked from this site.
One writer’s POV on the subject, which includes sections on What is Slash?, Gender and Slash, and Characterization and Canon, can be found here .
A tongue-in-cheek version by my friend elfin can be found over here.
And (coming back on topic), from "The Things You Learn From Slash" page, one item in particular leaps out for me when considering the Hobby/Joe pairing:
“Men who are obviously straight---so straight they would NEVER look at their partner/best friend/worst enemy/boss/Canadian Mountie/commander twice---are definitely gay.”
This is one of the thrills unique to this sort of slashfic: the shock of running off the rails, of deviating from an entire lifetime of sexual behavior -- but what a delicious shock it is! Parts of the libido the character never knew existed suddenly spring to full-blown (pun intended) and urgent life. Most fan fiction writers enjoy putting their favorite characters through the wringer, and what could involve more tension than realizing that perhaps you aren’t what you always thought you are, or that another person -- of the same sex -- has such power over you? At the core of such stories lies a profound dislocation from the self, and at the same time both discovering and embracing of the new self that emerges.
And that, frankly, is exactly what happens to the rather staid Professor Hobby when Gigolo Joe walks into his life. His world, sexual and otherwise, ends up getting turned upside down by this gorgeous, enticing, seductive, graceful, and entirely mouthwatering lover-Mecha -- and does he complain? Far from it! Perhaps this is one of the most “reality-impaired” aspects of slashfic, lol -- the character getting slashed almost NEVER reacts to it with the absolute shock that such an act might be expected to cause in the Real World. (This is not to say that slashfic characters don’t agonize about their actions. They often do, soul-searching and wallowing in angst and struggling against their own impulses... however, such efforts almost always end up in another bout of slashy sex, which they end up enjoying, if possible, even more than the first time! ;-) Slash writers seldom let common sense get in the way of writing a good sex scene, but if they’re good, it DOES seem to make sense to the reader.)
I’ve slashed several pairings -- Peter/Egon (Real Ghostbusters), Bob/Megabyte (Reboot), Michael/KITT (Knight Rider, yes, it CAN be done!), and a few others -- but I must admit, I’ve enjoyed Hobby/Joe in a way that is uniquely their own. Possibly because the more reserved the character, the greater the release of energy when they “snap”, and Hobby is a very reserved man: grave, intelligent, a lion in winter, conservative in the extreme. The whiplash effect of “One Degree of Separation” is probably the most powerful I’ve ever written.
And also, let’s face it -- I find William Hurt dead sexy. (blush!) I always have, and I’m not alone. “Thank you for writing the only piece of William Hurt slash I’ve ever seen!” one reviewer noted, and it’s true. If anyone knows of more somewhere, please let me know! Pretty, pretty please. With sugar on top.
Jude Law, too. (Howls, runs in circles... aaaooowwwooooooh!) You can find pictures of The Boys at "The One Degree of Separation Universe Visual Reference” page at "Clear and Haunting Visions". See if you don’t agree with me. And if you don’t, hey, different strokes for different folks. If anyone holds that point of view, it should certainly be slash fiction writers... God bless us, every one. ;-)
NEXT UP: “The A.I.: Artificial Intelligence Roleplaying Game”
SETTING: The heatwave broke a couple of days ago, as mentioned... the G4 is now working again, but only on one partition, grrrr... time to reformat!
And now to get around to three topics I promised to deal with several days ago: Thoughts on "One Degree", Roleplaying (specifically the online “A.I.: Artificial Intelligence” RP), and Wicca. I’ll deal with them each in a separate entry. First up:
"ONE DEGREE OF SEPARATION": In spite of the recent cooler temperatures, all it takes to raise my thermostat is thinking about Professor Hobby and Gigolo Joe. *sigh* Oh, well, if you can't beat em... write about em. A recent positive review brought this story back to my attention, and it IS my diary, no? So writing about what’s on my mind is certainly allowed.
"One Degree Of Separation" is fan fiction. It is rated NC-17, and is a slashfic involving Professor Allen Hobby and the lover-robot Gigolo Joe from the “A.I.: Artificial Intelligence” movie universe. It is also, by far, the single piece of fan fiction that has brought me the most praise in my seven years of posting fan fiction to the internet. In fact, the reviews have sometimes been glowing to the point of “Oh, my God, did I really write that?” (peers a story again) “Well, shucks... I guess I did.”
If you haven't read ""One Degree Of Separation" yet, I sugget you do -- it will certainly give you a much better idea of what this rambling is about. If not, hey, you can always skip on to the next entry. ;-) Scroll on down, and enjoy.
Still with me? Okay, then, here we go.
Whole essays have been written about why "slash" (fan fiction featuring sexual or romantic contact between two same-sex characters, ie: Kirk/Spock, Danger Mouse/Penfold, Batman/Superman, and so on) is so popular, and why so many women as opposed to men indulge in it.
There are several excellent articles linked from this site.
One writer’s POV on the subject, which includes sections on What is Slash?, Gender and Slash, and Characterization and Canon, can be found here .
A tongue-in-cheek version by my friend elfin can be found over here.
And (coming back on topic), from "The Things You Learn From Slash" page, one item in particular leaps out for me when considering the Hobby/Joe pairing:
“Men who are obviously straight---so straight they would NEVER look at their partner/best friend/worst enemy/boss/Canadian Mountie/commander twice---are definitely gay.”
This is one of the thrills unique to this sort of slashfic: the shock of running off the rails, of deviating from an entire lifetime of sexual behavior -- but what a delicious shock it is! Parts of the libido the character never knew existed suddenly spring to full-blown (pun intended) and urgent life. Most fan fiction writers enjoy putting their favorite characters through the wringer, and what could involve more tension than realizing that perhaps you aren’t what you always thought you are, or that another person -- of the same sex -- has such power over you? At the core of such stories lies a profound dislocation from the self, and at the same time both discovering and embracing of the new self that emerges.
And that, frankly, is exactly what happens to the rather staid Professor Hobby when Gigolo Joe walks into his life. His world, sexual and otherwise, ends up getting turned upside down by this gorgeous, enticing, seductive, graceful, and entirely mouthwatering lover-Mecha -- and does he complain? Far from it! Perhaps this is one of the most “reality-impaired” aspects of slashfic, lol -- the character getting slashed almost NEVER reacts to it with the absolute shock that such an act might be expected to cause in the Real World. (This is not to say that slashfic characters don’t agonize about their actions. They often do, soul-searching and wallowing in angst and struggling against their own impulses... however, such efforts almost always end up in another bout of slashy sex, which they end up enjoying, if possible, even more than the first time! ;-) Slash writers seldom let common sense get in the way of writing a good sex scene, but if they’re good, it DOES seem to make sense to the reader.)
I’ve slashed several pairings -- Peter/Egon (Real Ghostbusters), Bob/Megabyte (Reboot), Michael/KITT (Knight Rider, yes, it CAN be done!), and a few others -- but I must admit, I’ve enjoyed Hobby/Joe in a way that is uniquely their own. Possibly because the more reserved the character, the greater the release of energy when they “snap”, and Hobby is a very reserved man: grave, intelligent, a lion in winter, conservative in the extreme. The whiplash effect of “One Degree of Separation” is probably the most powerful I’ve ever written.
And also, let’s face it -- I find William Hurt dead sexy. (blush!) I always have, and I’m not alone. “Thank you for writing the only piece of William Hurt slash I’ve ever seen!” one reviewer noted, and it’s true. If anyone knows of more somewhere, please let me know! Pretty, pretty please. With sugar on top.
Jude Law, too. (Howls, runs in circles... aaaooowwwooooooh!) You can find pictures of The Boys at "The One Degree of Separation Universe Visual Reference” page at "Clear and Haunting Visions". See if you don’t agree with me. And if you don’t, hey, different strokes for different folks. If anyone holds that point of view, it should certainly be slash fiction writers... God bless us, every one. ;-)
NEXT UP: “The A.I.: Artificial Intelligence Roleplaying Game”
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-08-23 - 2:01 a.m.)
Catching up on missed posts... on to roleplaying! In particular,
THE "A.I." ROLEPLAYING GAME! Or, "How I learned to stop worrying and love playing Gigolo Joe."
You can visit the AI RP Yahoo! group and this related AI RP Tripod site.
Basically, I run it. I didn’t intend to initially. However, the person who started the group (Jennifer December) had no experience whatsoever in running RP (roleplaying), while I have about 16 years of it under my belt. I came in as a player with Gigolo Joe as my character (lucky me!), and agreed to take over the RP for “a little while” until Jennifer learned the ropes.
This, by the way, is Joe. Isn't he pretty? :-D
That was back in about January. Now Gigolo Joe is an NPC (non-player character), and I’ve found myself challenged to keep ahead of four EXTREMELY intelligent, inventive, and agile players, running eight PC’s (player characters) between them. To misquote our good Gigolo, “They test my limits, but try I must!” And it’s been one helluva hoot, let me tell you!
But I wouldn’t have it any other way. They’re a joy to work with: Twinkle, who plays Monica Swinton with deeply thoughtful emotion; Ruby, whose bounty hunter Cal McPherson is a wonder of smoking, drinking, hard-edged cynicism; Ruby again, playing Nicky Panzini, a young man uncertain of himself whose visions may hold the key to the future; Northlight, playing both the bemused astronomer Tsivil Joblowski and her exacting, order-obsessed Mecha companion Sirus; and finally Matrix Refugee, playing the trio of Cecie Martin, Frank Sweitz, and Hal McGeever, three characters whose personalities span such a range of imagination and variety that I am always in awe of her ability to act them out so clearly and strongly. In almost two decades of RPing in groups, I have never met a group with such synergy that works in such harmony.
The “Main Game” is played out in live-time chat, usually once every two or so weeks. The chat is logged, and the logs edited and sent out to each of the players a few days after the chat session. Play typically lasts about 7 hours per session, but the time seems to fly by with so much going on! Not that the game skims over a whole lot: this is an RP where a glance between PCs can change the course of the action, character-driven in the extreme. An 8 hour session can also cover 8 hours in the gaming universe, or sometimes even less.
I eventually plan to upload all chat logs to the group’s Tripod site (initially we were fictionalizing each chat, but there’s just TOO much happening in each session to rephrase it all).
On the Yahoo! mailing list, a second phase of the game is played out: the “PHUN” universe! Here all of our characters live in our houses, make love and war, play jokes on each other, and generally get up to all kinds of hijinks. (My cat Emmie, mentioned in an earlier post, plays her own little role in the PHUN universe, lol...)
The sheer inventiveness of the group is evident in the number of monthly posts: 359 in April, 439 in May, 250 in June and 267 in July (people being on vacation), and 125 so far in August (again, folks being on vacation...). Gee, can you tell I love these guys yet? :-D Wonderful, amazing, incredible, fantastic... I’m so, SO lucky to have this opportunity. All I can hope is that I don’t let them down.
A final thought on top of all the gushing: another RPing friend of mine once asked, “Aren’t you afraid that you’ll accidentally leak stuff to the PC’s, since Joe is a God-run NPC?” The thought made me chuckle. “No, never!” I replied. “Joe is such an airhead in so many ways, there’s never anything in his mind to leak!” Playing a character with such a one-track mind can be difficult, but so far I’ve never had anything but fun with him. In fact, after a tough day of being myself, playing Joe seems like a vacation.
NEXT UP: Wicca! or, "Don't they make furniture out of that?"
Catching up on missed posts... on to roleplaying! In particular,
THE "A.I." ROLEPLAYING GAME! Or, "How I learned to stop worrying and love playing Gigolo Joe."
You can visit the AI RP Yahoo! group and this related AI RP Tripod site.
Basically, I run it. I didn’t intend to initially. However, the person who started the group (Jennifer December) had no experience whatsoever in running RP (roleplaying), while I have about 16 years of it under my belt. I came in as a player with Gigolo Joe as my character (lucky me!), and agreed to take over the RP for “a little while” until Jennifer learned the ropes.
This, by the way, is Joe. Isn't he pretty? :-D
That was back in about January. Now Gigolo Joe is an NPC (non-player character), and I’ve found myself challenged to keep ahead of four EXTREMELY intelligent, inventive, and agile players, running eight PC’s (player characters) between them. To misquote our good Gigolo, “They test my limits, but try I must!” And it’s been one helluva hoot, let me tell you!
But I wouldn’t have it any other way. They’re a joy to work with: Twinkle, who plays Monica Swinton with deeply thoughtful emotion; Ruby, whose bounty hunter Cal McPherson is a wonder of smoking, drinking, hard-edged cynicism; Ruby again, playing Nicky Panzini, a young man uncertain of himself whose visions may hold the key to the future; Northlight, playing both the bemused astronomer Tsivil Joblowski and her exacting, order-obsessed Mecha companion Sirus; and finally Matrix Refugee, playing the trio of Cecie Martin, Frank Sweitz, and Hal McGeever, three characters whose personalities span such a range of imagination and variety that I am always in awe of her ability to act them out so clearly and strongly. In almost two decades of RPing in groups, I have never met a group with such synergy that works in such harmony.
The “Main Game” is played out in live-time chat, usually once every two or so weeks. The chat is logged, and the logs edited and sent out to each of the players a few days after the chat session. Play typically lasts about 7 hours per session, but the time seems to fly by with so much going on! Not that the game skims over a whole lot: this is an RP where a glance between PCs can change the course of the action, character-driven in the extreme. An 8 hour session can also cover 8 hours in the gaming universe, or sometimes even less.
I eventually plan to upload all chat logs to the group’s Tripod site (initially we were fictionalizing each chat, but there’s just TOO much happening in each session to rephrase it all).
On the Yahoo! mailing list, a second phase of the game is played out: the “PHUN” universe! Here all of our characters live in our houses, make love and war, play jokes on each other, and generally get up to all kinds of hijinks. (My cat Emmie, mentioned in an earlier post, plays her own little role in the PHUN universe, lol...)
The sheer inventiveness of the group is evident in the number of monthly posts: 359 in April, 439 in May, 250 in June and 267 in July (people being on vacation), and 125 so far in August (again, folks being on vacation...). Gee, can you tell I love these guys yet? :-D Wonderful, amazing, incredible, fantastic... I’m so, SO lucky to have this opportunity. All I can hope is that I don’t let them down.
A final thought on top of all the gushing: another RPing friend of mine once asked, “Aren’t you afraid that you’ll accidentally leak stuff to the PC’s, since Joe is a God-run NPC?” The thought made me chuckle. “No, never!” I replied. “Joe is such an airhead in so many ways, there’s never anything in his mind to leak!” Playing a character with such a one-track mind can be difficult, but so far I’ve never had anything but fun with him. In fact, after a tough day of being myself, playing Joe seems like a vacation.
NEXT UP: Wicca! or, "Don't they make furniture out of that?"
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-08-23 - 2:28 a.m.)
Nope! And we don’t worship Satan, sacrifice chickens, or have orgies (though I must admit, I was a bit disappointed when THAT part of it didn’t turn out to be true... ;-)). While Wicca has become a fad these last several years -- some people seem to think they’re Wiccan because they’ve watched a few episodes of “Charmed” :-P -- the religion, when seriously followed, involves a commitment to personal responsibility, practical compassion, and a lifelong dedication to learning.
The following is a reprint of an article I wrote a few years ago, as a handout to give to media people, Christians, and the simply curious when they ask, "just what IS Wicca, anyway?" It's my attempt to answer the most basic questions about my religion, and has been generally pretty helpful.
********************************
Wicca 101, or, "So you're curious about Wicca!"
(copyright Laurie E. Smith 2002)
I'll give you my take on the subject, and then point you at some references which may corroborate or contradict my opinions. This does not claim to be a comprehensive list; these are only my personal observations, and may be challenged or added to as I progress and learn.
To start with, Wicca is a denomination of the modern NeoPagan religious movement, whose primary characteristics are pluralism (many paths to Truth), polytheism (many Gods, often aspects of a single Deity), and pantheism (God interpenetrates the material world and all living things).
Wicca is defined as its own distinct religion in the following respects:
1) its moral code. Wiccans follow the Wiccan Rede ("If you harm none, do what you will") and often believe in the Rule of Three ("whatever you do, for good or ill, comes back upon you three times over).
2) the practice of witchcraft, a technique which, like prayer, is practiced by other religions besides Wicca; in Wicca, how one uses witchcraft for is generally determined by the Rede and the Rule mentioned above.
3) initiatory membership (at least in the more formal traditions; many Wiccans operate independently of any coven).
4) focus on trance induction techniques to achieve religious ecstasy (chanting, drumming, dancing).
5) the concept of Deity as having two aspects, male and female, which are necessary for each other's existence.
6) the following of eight holidays through the year, called Sabbats, which fall on the solstices, the equinoxes, and equal points in between.
It must also be said that although Wicca draws inspiration from the pre-Christian religions of Europe, it has in and of itself only been in existence since the 1950's, when an Englishman named Gerald Gardner published a book called "Witchcraft Today" which started the modern Wiccan movement. However, its theology and theosophy are based on older schools of thought, and continue to have relevance today.
There are many different denominations (called Traditions) of Wicca. Some Traditions require coven initiation, while others allow practitioners to work alone or in casual groups. Some emphasize the worship of the Goddess over the God. Others revere both equally. The common element is a practical and earthy approach, based in the ancient fertility religions in which Wicca is rooted.
As noted above, Wiccans do not have a Bible. Each Wiccan follows the Rede and often the Rule, which are generally considered to be the only essential moral commandments of the faith -- individual worship can take almost any form, so long as those commandments are followed. Each Wiccan may keep their own personal journal, called a Book of Shadows, detailing their path of discovery in the religion, which may contain anything from meditations on the nature of the Gods to the mundane tasks of growing and harvesting herbs, spells, notes from religious research, and recipes for sabbat cakes and other traditional ritual feast items.
The eight sabbats fall on the solstices, the equinoxes, and four points in between (it works out to a sabbat every six weeks). The sabbats celebrate the agricultural course of the year, from the birth of vegetation in the spring to the cold shroud of winter, after which the Earth will once again give birth to new growth. This idea of "time as cyclical" is echoed in the common Wiccan belief in reincarnation.
Since Wicca is a fertility religion, it is not surprising that Wiccans tend to have a healthy and loving attitude toward sex and procreation; remember, in our world-view there was no Original Sin, and the flesh is not therefore sinful. Most Wiccans look at pleasure, sexual and otherwise, as a gift of the loving Gods to us, Their children, to be used responsibly and with harm to none. The core symbolism of Wiccan liturgy tends to be sexual, reflecting the eternal dance of love between the Goddess and the God.
********************************
For more info, try The U.S. Army Chaplains Guide to Wicca. For general information on Wicca and NeoPaganism, see The Witches Voice. Also,The Ontario Consultants on Religious Tolerance has an excellent entry on Wicca.
A good book for beginners is Scott Cunningham's "Wicca: A Guide For The Solitary Practitioner" available at many book shops or at Amazon.com.
Nope! And we don’t worship Satan, sacrifice chickens, or have orgies (though I must admit, I was a bit disappointed when THAT part of it didn’t turn out to be true... ;-)). While Wicca has become a fad these last several years -- some people seem to think they’re Wiccan because they’ve watched a few episodes of “Charmed” :-P -- the religion, when seriously followed, involves a commitment to personal responsibility, practical compassion, and a lifelong dedication to learning.
The following is a reprint of an article I wrote a few years ago, as a handout to give to media people, Christians, and the simply curious when they ask, "just what IS Wicca, anyway?" It's my attempt to answer the most basic questions about my religion, and has been generally pretty helpful.
********************************
Wicca 101, or, "So you're curious about Wicca!"
(copyright Laurie E. Smith 2002)
I'll give you my take on the subject, and then point you at some references which may corroborate or contradict my opinions. This does not claim to be a comprehensive list; these are only my personal observations, and may be challenged or added to as I progress and learn.
To start with, Wicca is a denomination of the modern NeoPagan religious movement, whose primary characteristics are pluralism (many paths to Truth), polytheism (many Gods, often aspects of a single Deity), and pantheism (God interpenetrates the material world and all living things).
Wicca is defined as its own distinct religion in the following respects:
1) its moral code. Wiccans follow the Wiccan Rede ("If you harm none, do what you will") and often believe in the Rule of Three ("whatever you do, for good or ill, comes back upon you three times over).
2) the practice of witchcraft, a technique which, like prayer, is practiced by other religions besides Wicca; in Wicca, how one uses witchcraft for is generally determined by the Rede and the Rule mentioned above.
3) initiatory membership (at least in the more formal traditions; many Wiccans operate independently of any coven).
4) focus on trance induction techniques to achieve religious ecstasy (chanting, drumming, dancing).
5) the concept of Deity as having two aspects, male and female, which are necessary for each other's existence.
6) the following of eight holidays through the year, called Sabbats, which fall on the solstices, the equinoxes, and equal points in between.
It must also be said that although Wicca draws inspiration from the pre-Christian religions of Europe, it has in and of itself only been in existence since the 1950's, when an Englishman named Gerald Gardner published a book called "Witchcraft Today" which started the modern Wiccan movement. However, its theology and theosophy are based on older schools of thought, and continue to have relevance today.
There are many different denominations (called Traditions) of Wicca. Some Traditions require coven initiation, while others allow practitioners to work alone or in casual groups. Some emphasize the worship of the Goddess over the God. Others revere both equally. The common element is a practical and earthy approach, based in the ancient fertility religions in which Wicca is rooted.
As noted above, Wiccans do not have a Bible. Each Wiccan follows the Rede and often the Rule, which are generally considered to be the only essential moral commandments of the faith -- individual worship can take almost any form, so long as those commandments are followed. Each Wiccan may keep their own personal journal, called a Book of Shadows, detailing their path of discovery in the religion, which may contain anything from meditations on the nature of the Gods to the mundane tasks of growing and harvesting herbs, spells, notes from religious research, and recipes for sabbat cakes and other traditional ritual feast items.
The eight sabbats fall on the solstices, the equinoxes, and four points in between (it works out to a sabbat every six weeks). The sabbats celebrate the agricultural course of the year, from the birth of vegetation in the spring to the cold shroud of winter, after which the Earth will once again give birth to new growth. This idea of "time as cyclical" is echoed in the common Wiccan belief in reincarnation.
Since Wicca is a fertility religion, it is not surprising that Wiccans tend to have a healthy and loving attitude toward sex and procreation; remember, in our world-view there was no Original Sin, and the flesh is not therefore sinful. Most Wiccans look at pleasure, sexual and otherwise, as a gift of the loving Gods to us, Their children, to be used responsibly and with harm to none. The core symbolism of Wiccan liturgy tends to be sexual, reflecting the eternal dance of love between the Goddess and the God.
********************************
For more info, try The U.S. Army Chaplains Guide to Wicca. For general information on Wicca and NeoPaganism, see The Witches Voice. Also,The Ontario Consultants on Religious Tolerance has an excellent entry on Wicca.
A good book for beginners is Scott Cunningham's "Wicca: A Guide For The Solitary Practitioner" available at many book shops or at Amazon.com.
(originally posted on Dairyland.com, 2003-08-24 - 12:49 a.m.)
A bad day... heartsick, panicked, anxious, exhausting depression. I handle it better than I used to, but every so often it still floors me.
Most of the day in bed, plunging into sleep to hide from it. Nightmares that made me feel even worse when I woke up. Can't work, can't relax, can't find inner balance. All I can do is wait it out.
Some time I'll make an entry about what this means to me, but for the moment words won't come.
Later...
A bad day... heartsick, panicked, anxious, exhausting depression. I handle it better than I used to, but every so often it still floors me.
Most of the day in bed, plunging into sleep to hide from it. Nightmares that made me feel even worse when I woke up. Can't work, can't relax, can't find inner balance. All I can do is wait it out.
Some time I'll make an entry about what this means to me, but for the moment words won't come.
Later...
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-08-24 - 11:16 p.m.)
Still in the jaws of the Black Dogs!
Again, not much energy, and taking things minute to minute. I'm managing to get work done on "Girl Genius", but am in no condition to judge the quality of the painting; that will have to wait until I have a clearer mind.
In the eight-month course in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (or DBT) that I went through about a year ago, one of the skills they taught us is Non-Judgemental Stance. This is the ability to stop evaluating your actions in blaming terms that only make you feel worse and prolong the suffering of the depression. That skill is coming in very handy today.
So is Distress Tolerance: "I can tolerate the distress, by taking it hour to hour, minute to minute, or second to second... I can get through this without spiralling into panic and despair". That one's been a bit more elusive today. Fortunately, I have tranquilizers as a backup to stabilize my mood swings to the point where I can think straight.
In case you're curious, here's a good summary of the Dialectical Behavioral Therapy process. And to make you smile, Trillian's Psych Humor Page. Here's a sample of Trillian's stuff...
****************************
-- How many Narcissistic P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
Just one. To hold the lightbulb but he has to wait for the whole world to revolve around him.
-- How many Borderline P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
Just one. To threaten suicide if you don't change it for him/her.
-- How many Obsessive-Compulsive P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
Just one. But he has to check it 100 times, one for each watt.
-- How many Passive Aggressive P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
Oops.I can't believe I broke the last one. I guess you'll have to sit in the dark.
-- How many Dependent P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
None, he's still clinging to the old lightbulb.
-- How many Histrionic P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
"You want me to change the lightbulb? I could burn my hand! I could be electrocuted! I could fall off the ladder and be paralyzed for life! You don't love me anymore!"
****************************
Neurotics build castles in the sky.
Psychotics live in them.
Psychiatrists collect the rent.
****************************
Still in the jaws of the Black Dogs!
Again, not much energy, and taking things minute to minute. I'm managing to get work done on "Girl Genius", but am in no condition to judge the quality of the painting; that will have to wait until I have a clearer mind.
In the eight-month course in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (or DBT) that I went through about a year ago, one of the skills they taught us is Non-Judgemental Stance. This is the ability to stop evaluating your actions in blaming terms that only make you feel worse and prolong the suffering of the depression. That skill is coming in very handy today.
So is Distress Tolerance: "I can tolerate the distress, by taking it hour to hour, minute to minute, or second to second... I can get through this without spiralling into panic and despair". That one's been a bit more elusive today. Fortunately, I have tranquilizers as a backup to stabilize my mood swings to the point where I can think straight.
In case you're curious, here's a good summary of the Dialectical Behavioral Therapy process. And to make you smile, Trillian's Psych Humor Page. Here's a sample of Trillian's stuff...
****************************
-- How many Narcissistic P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
Just one. To hold the lightbulb but he has to wait for the whole world to revolve around him.
-- How many Borderline P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
Just one. To threaten suicide if you don't change it for him/her.
-- How many Obsessive-Compulsive P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
Just one. But he has to check it 100 times, one for each watt.
-- How many Passive Aggressive P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
Oops.I can't believe I broke the last one. I guess you'll have to sit in the dark.
-- How many Dependent P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
None, he's still clinging to the old lightbulb.
-- How many Histrionic P.D. does to take to change a lightbulb?
"You want me to change the lightbulb? I could burn my hand! I could be electrocuted! I could fall off the ladder and be paralyzed for life! You don't love me anymore!"
****************************
Neurotics build castles in the sky.
Psychotics live in them.
Psychiatrists collect the rent.
****************************
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-08-29 - 1:01 a.m.)
It was an old funeral parlour in downtown Winnipeg, a building that had been untenanted for many years since the funeral chapel moved to bigger digs in the suburbs. It was right behind a drugstore I often use and across the street from the Medical Arts Building where I've sometimes gone for appointments, and only a block from where I catch my bus home every night that I work at Ipsos-Reid.
I'd never seen a building burn before. At 11 pm on a clear summer night, the billows of smoke are lit from beneath, orange and roiling and dark and heavy. They rise high enough to encircle twenty-story buildings in darkness. The smell of burning wood and crisp water make the air sharp to breathe.
For years the parlour had been at the corner of my awareness, part of the furniture of my mind -- the kind you never consciously think of seeing, but when someone mentions it you twig fairly quickly to which location they mean. Well, now it's gone forever. And I'm not sure how I feel about that yet.
It aches, mostly. Another intimation of mortality, both of structures and of human beings. And its destruction was something that the movie or television screen can't really capture.
The scale of it was awe-inspiring. The building was four stories tall and white, with no ground-floor windows and those false support columns on the streetside facing that are our culture's shorthand for "funeral home". By the time I worked my way from the bus stop (where people stood wondering out loud what was happening and why police cars were blocking off the streets, until one enterprising fellow walked up a half a block and came running back to tell us what he'd seen between the buildings), across the street and into the parking lot of the Medical Arts Building, flames had broken through the roof of the funeral home and were licking wildly up into the night sky. Each of them was three times as tall as my 5'2" height, easily -- and there was something both frightening and fascinating about them as they devoured the empty structure, sometimes beaten back, but always resurged against the streams of water flying into the heart of the building through numerous broken windows.
And there was no shortage of water. Seven fire trucks had arranged themselves around the site, two of them with the tall cranelike structures that shoot water in a massive cloud onto any target below them. While sinuous snakes of water, trailing mist, were shot into the inferno from street level, the cranes concentrated on dousing the roof (with intermittant success) and creating a wall of water between the parlour and an old heritage apartment block right beside it. Maybe twelve feet separated the burning building from the non-burning one, and obviously the firefighters hoped to keep it that way.
Still, standing there among the scatterings of people gathered in the parking lot behind the yellow DO NOT CROSS police tape, I found myself praying: Please, Goddess, let no one be hurt. Don't let the fire make the leap that will take another building down with it. I also found myself wondering if anyone in the apartment block had left their windows open that evening -- if so, I hoped that the damage from smoke and water wouldn't be too much. (There was a certain humor in the thought, though I'd be at pains to explain to you why I found it amusing at the time.)
At one point, one of the streams of water shot from the ground was directed almost straight up to let its load fall down on top of the burning roof. Have you ever seen how a wave on the ocean rises in a rippling curve, capped with foam and gracefully falling back upon itself? That was exactly what that water stream looked like, lit from beneath.
As far as the fate of the apartment building went, hoping was all I or anyone else watching could do. In our helplessness, it was heartening to watch the tall, strong firefighters move back and forth with such purpose, talking with confident police officers who kept an eye on the perimeter and gently directed people who got a little too close to stand behind it. Bicycle cops weaved in and out among the hoses and vehicles, stopping every so often to talk to a firefighter or another policeman; what they were doing, I couldn't begin to guess. But whatever it was, it somehow made me feel better to see them doing it.
It is so seldom that we who live in cities actually get to see the benefits of that infrastructure in action. They had mobilized themselves against an elemental force of destruction in order to contain and defeat it, and as we watched they slowly beat it back, each gout of renewed flame through the roof of the building seeming weaker and smaller than before. The flashing lights of the emergency vehicles lit dozens up upturned faces: teenagers, older couples, families who had been out for a walk, young romantics holding each other as they watched the drama unfold.
For an hour, we all shared one spectacle. People have been watching buildings burn since construction with flammable materials was invented -- for all practical purposes, we could have been a crowd from 1950, or 1850, or 1050 for that matter. The clothes and mindset have changed profoundly; the fascination, however, is eternal.
We watched the primal conflict between man and fire, that most capricious and seemingly malicious of elementals... and even though we live in the 21st century, with all the tools of technology and modern civil engineering at our command, there was still some lingering doubt that men would win this battle. Therefore it wasn't until the flames had died down and stayed down for several minutes, until the windows were utterly dark and sparks no longer spun upward from the rooftop, that I found the tension and sorrow inside me finally easing. It wasn't until then that I was finally able to turn around and walk away, leaving others still staring upward into the smokey night sky.
I'd been standing there for over an hour in the cold and dark. When I got home my husband had hot food waiting, and tea, and they were both welcome.
It was the first time I had ever seen a building burn. It was beautiful in its way, but Goddess willing, I will never have to see it again.
It was an old funeral parlour in downtown Winnipeg, a building that had been untenanted for many years since the funeral chapel moved to bigger digs in the suburbs. It was right behind a drugstore I often use and across the street from the Medical Arts Building where I've sometimes gone for appointments, and only a block from where I catch my bus home every night that I work at Ipsos-Reid.
I'd never seen a building burn before. At 11 pm on a clear summer night, the billows of smoke are lit from beneath, orange and roiling and dark and heavy. They rise high enough to encircle twenty-story buildings in darkness. The smell of burning wood and crisp water make the air sharp to breathe.
For years the parlour had been at the corner of my awareness, part of the furniture of my mind -- the kind you never consciously think of seeing, but when someone mentions it you twig fairly quickly to which location they mean. Well, now it's gone forever. And I'm not sure how I feel about that yet.
It aches, mostly. Another intimation of mortality, both of structures and of human beings. And its destruction was something that the movie or television screen can't really capture.
The scale of it was awe-inspiring. The building was four stories tall and white, with no ground-floor windows and those false support columns on the streetside facing that are our culture's shorthand for "funeral home". By the time I worked my way from the bus stop (where people stood wondering out loud what was happening and why police cars were blocking off the streets, until one enterprising fellow walked up a half a block and came running back to tell us what he'd seen between the buildings), across the street and into the parking lot of the Medical Arts Building, flames had broken through the roof of the funeral home and were licking wildly up into the night sky. Each of them was three times as tall as my 5'2" height, easily -- and there was something both frightening and fascinating about them as they devoured the empty structure, sometimes beaten back, but always resurged against the streams of water flying into the heart of the building through numerous broken windows.
And there was no shortage of water. Seven fire trucks had arranged themselves around the site, two of them with the tall cranelike structures that shoot water in a massive cloud onto any target below them. While sinuous snakes of water, trailing mist, were shot into the inferno from street level, the cranes concentrated on dousing the roof (with intermittant success) and creating a wall of water between the parlour and an old heritage apartment block right beside it. Maybe twelve feet separated the burning building from the non-burning one, and obviously the firefighters hoped to keep it that way.
Still, standing there among the scatterings of people gathered in the parking lot behind the yellow DO NOT CROSS police tape, I found myself praying: Please, Goddess, let no one be hurt. Don't let the fire make the leap that will take another building down with it. I also found myself wondering if anyone in the apartment block had left their windows open that evening -- if so, I hoped that the damage from smoke and water wouldn't be too much. (There was a certain humor in the thought, though I'd be at pains to explain to you why I found it amusing at the time.)
At one point, one of the streams of water shot from the ground was directed almost straight up to let its load fall down on top of the burning roof. Have you ever seen how a wave on the ocean rises in a rippling curve, capped with foam and gracefully falling back upon itself? That was exactly what that water stream looked like, lit from beneath.
As far as the fate of the apartment building went, hoping was all I or anyone else watching could do. In our helplessness, it was heartening to watch the tall, strong firefighters move back and forth with such purpose, talking with confident police officers who kept an eye on the perimeter and gently directed people who got a little too close to stand behind it. Bicycle cops weaved in and out among the hoses and vehicles, stopping every so often to talk to a firefighter or another policeman; what they were doing, I couldn't begin to guess. But whatever it was, it somehow made me feel better to see them doing it.
It is so seldom that we who live in cities actually get to see the benefits of that infrastructure in action. They had mobilized themselves against an elemental force of destruction in order to contain and defeat it, and as we watched they slowly beat it back, each gout of renewed flame through the roof of the building seeming weaker and smaller than before. The flashing lights of the emergency vehicles lit dozens up upturned faces: teenagers, older couples, families who had been out for a walk, young romantics holding each other as they watched the drama unfold.
For an hour, we all shared one spectacle. People have been watching buildings burn since construction with flammable materials was invented -- for all practical purposes, we could have been a crowd from 1950, or 1850, or 1050 for that matter. The clothes and mindset have changed profoundly; the fascination, however, is eternal.
We watched the primal conflict between man and fire, that most capricious and seemingly malicious of elementals... and even though we live in the 21st century, with all the tools of technology and modern civil engineering at our command, there was still some lingering doubt that men would win this battle. Therefore it wasn't until the flames had died down and stayed down for several minutes, until the windows were utterly dark and sparks no longer spun upward from the rooftop, that I found the tension and sorrow inside me finally easing. It wasn't until then that I was finally able to turn around and walk away, leaving others still staring upward into the smokey night sky.
I'd been standing there for over an hour in the cold and dark. When I got home my husband had hot food waiting, and tea, and they were both welcome.
It was the first time I had ever seen a building burn. It was beautiful in its way, but Goddess willing, I will never have to see it again.
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-08-30 - 5:10 p.m.)
Well, the apartment building next to the torched funeral home didn't burn down (which is a minor miracle -- as you can see in the photo below, they're separated by next to no space whatsoever).
Wow, that was close!
When I rode past the site on a bus this afternoon the funeral home was gone, and all that was left was the left front corner to the height of the second floor and part of the back garage area. Hopefully this won't become just another empty lot in the city's core area.
Kudos to the Winnipeg Fire Department for an excellent job; things could have been a lot worse. Not to mention that according to today's Winnipeg Free Press, firemen were rescuing cats from inside the apartment block as the fire was raging next door, to make sure they were safe.
Speaking of cats (smooth segue, huh?), I just got back from four hours of volunteering at the Winnipeg Humane Society. This is their annual Tag Day weekend, when folks with little boxes and WHS stickers go stand in front of various stores and invite people to help care for the thousands of animals that pour through our doors every year. I didn't tag myself -- what, do I look like a people person? ;-) -- but worked instead at the Tag Day headquarters, cutting open boxes and counting out what's inside, making sure donation receipts were properly filled out, etc. Compared to those folks standing out there in the hot sun or cold rain, often with their own pets by their sides to draw attention and stimulate conversation, my job is really easy-peasy.
Today I met the BIGGEST dog I've ever seen, coming in with his master to drop off their box -- a German Shepherd/Rottweiler/Great Dane cross -- yikes!!! With the owner's permission, another volunteer offered him a cake donut, which he gravely accepted and swallowed in ONE BITE. The darn thing came up to my belly button (at 5'2", I'll let you figure out the exact height, lol) and had a head as big as my cat Emmie.
And speaking of Emmie -- here's a picture of her:
Okay, I'm done now.
Well, the apartment building next to the torched funeral home didn't burn down (which is a minor miracle -- as you can see in the photo below, they're separated by next to no space whatsoever).
Wow, that was close!
When I rode past the site on a bus this afternoon the funeral home was gone, and all that was left was the left front corner to the height of the second floor and part of the back garage area. Hopefully this won't become just another empty lot in the city's core area.
Kudos to the Winnipeg Fire Department for an excellent job; things could have been a lot worse. Not to mention that according to today's Winnipeg Free Press, firemen were rescuing cats from inside the apartment block as the fire was raging next door, to make sure they were safe.
Speaking of cats (smooth segue, huh?), I just got back from four hours of volunteering at the Winnipeg Humane Society. This is their annual Tag Day weekend, when folks with little boxes and WHS stickers go stand in front of various stores and invite people to help care for the thousands of animals that pour through our doors every year. I didn't tag myself -- what, do I look like a people person? ;-) -- but worked instead at the Tag Day headquarters, cutting open boxes and counting out what's inside, making sure donation receipts were properly filled out, etc. Compared to those folks standing out there in the hot sun or cold rain, often with their own pets by their sides to draw attention and stimulate conversation, my job is really easy-peasy.
Today I met the BIGGEST dog I've ever seen, coming in with his master to drop off their box -- a German Shepherd/Rottweiler/Great Dane cross -- yikes!!! With the owner's permission, another volunteer offered him a cake donut, which he gravely accepted and swallowed in ONE BITE. The darn thing came up to my belly button (at 5'2", I'll let you figure out the exact height, lol) and had a head as big as my cat Emmie.
And speaking of Emmie -- here's a picture of her:
Okay, I'm done now.
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-08-30 - 6:51 p.m.)
Here's an image I just found of the Wiccan wheel of the year -- our eight major religious festivals, complete with dates. The image of God and Goddess aren't ones I used myself (in local practice we generally picture the Lord as having stag's horns), but a pretty picture overall.
The Wiccan Wheel of the Year
Here's an image I just found of the Wiccan wheel of the year -- our eight major religious festivals, complete with dates. The image of God and Goddess aren't ones I used myself (in local practice we generally picture the Lord as having stag's horns), but a pretty picture overall.
(originally posted on Diaryland.com, 2003-09-02 - 11:55 a.m.)
Whew! Tired after an all-nighter between Sunday and Monday, but Girl Genius #10 is almost out the door. Today, I get to composite mountain photos into a hand-drawn mountain range. It looks quite good so far -- amazingly, the photos of mountains that I found have been fitting almost exactly in the sketched slopes and contours of the drawn mountain range. To quote The Tick: "Heavens to Betsy, what are the odds?!??"
After that, it's a few slight adjustments here and there to enhance the pages that extra bit before burning the CD to send to the client. And after THAT, it's a suspenseful waiting game.
The Foglios recently licensed the Girl Genius product to WizKids, a gaming company, which has just been bought out by Topps (yes, the bubble gum card people). They still want me as the colorist, but of course the final decision rests with the license owners -- and I'm concerned that they'll kick me off the book and put a colorist on it from their own stable. (Which would be a big mistake, and not just in my humble opinion: the Foglios are very pleased with my work, and whatever failings I may have, I KNOW I'm a damned good colorist).)
The Foglios have the impression that there won't be any problem with me continuing on the book, but in this business, anything could happen. It would suck horribly to finally get a chance to work with one of my favorite artists, then get booted because some editor wants their cousin, who has never painted a book in his life, to get a comic book credit :-P. The sad truth is, that's what often happens.
If this ends up tanking on me, fuck the comics industry -- it's time to find a more lucrative and pleasant career doing something else, like cleaning toilets. (Gee, can you tell I'm a little bitter at this point? ;-P Oh, well. All I can do is wait.)
Whew! Tired after an all-nighter between Sunday and Monday, but Girl Genius #10 is almost out the door. Today, I get to composite mountain photos into a hand-drawn mountain range. It looks quite good so far -- amazingly, the photos of mountains that I found have been fitting almost exactly in the sketched slopes and contours of the drawn mountain range. To quote The Tick: "Heavens to Betsy, what are the odds?!??"
After that, it's a few slight adjustments here and there to enhance the pages that extra bit before burning the CD to send to the client. And after THAT, it's a suspenseful waiting game.
The Foglios recently licensed the Girl Genius product to WizKids, a gaming company, which has just been bought out by Topps (yes, the bubble gum card people). They still want me as the colorist, but of course the final decision rests with the license owners -- and I'm concerned that they'll kick me off the book and put a colorist on it from their own stable. (Which would be a big mistake, and not just in my humble opinion: the Foglios are very pleased with my work, and whatever failings I may have, I KNOW I'm a damned good colorist).)
The Foglios have the impression that there won't be any problem with me continuing on the book, but in this business, anything could happen. It would suck horribly to finally get a chance to work with one of my favorite artists, then get booted because some editor wants their cousin, who has never painted a book in his life, to get a comic book credit :-P. The sad truth is, that's what often happens.
If this ends up tanking on me, fuck the comics industry -- it's time to find a more lucrative and pleasant career doing something else, like cleaning toilets. (Gee, can you tell I'm a little bitter at this point? ;-P Oh, well. All I can do is wait.)
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-04 - 2:05 a.m.)
Well, it's all over but the burning of the CDs -- the last pages of "Girl Genius" have been approved by Phil and Kaja Foglio, and I'm prepping the pages to send off tomorrow. The whole job was 47 pages, and I think it's some of the best work I've ever done; our styles really seem to mesh well, or I think so anyway. Phil might have a different opinion ;-), but if so, he hasn't voiced it to me directly.
When I'm down to the last hours of hard work on an art job, the choice of music becomes ESSENTIAL in keeping up my energy levels so I don't just crash and burn. I have several specially-made CD mixes of high energy music, funky music, romantic music, und so weiter, but when the pressure's on, the groove that REALLY gets me through that gee-I've-been-up-for-30-hours-now burn comes down to the following favorites (with representative tracks):
1) The Village People's Greatest Hits (including that always-makes-me-happy track "YMCA"... there's nothing like being short on sleep and getting re-energized by dancing around the studio making those Y-M-C-A arm movements...)
2) The Nightriders: 20 Famous Trucking Songs ("Convoy", "Rubber Duck", "Truckin' Man Type Motel" and "Eighteen Wheeler")
3) Barry Manilow's Greatest Hits Volume 1 AND 2 (I've never seen my husband grow paler than the day I brought those home and threatened to play them out loud in the studio in his presence!)
4) "Weird Al Yankovic": Alapalooza ("Jurassic Park", "Achy Breaky Song", and "Talk Soup"... this album doesn't include my all-time favorites, though: "One More Minute" and "This Is The Life", which are Weird Al at his most delightfully demented)
5) The Very Best Of Country Line Dancing ("Achy Breaky Heart", "Boot Scoot Boogie", and "Cadillac Ranch")
6) Prince: The Batman-Inspired Album ("The Future", "Electric Chair", and "Lemon Crush")
7) The Backstreet Boys: Millennium (I know, I know -- don't kill me! This album goes to prove that I'll listen to stuff when I'm stupid-tired that I wouldn't go within ten feet of when I'm awake and sane)
8) Shamen: Boss Drum (I don't usually like techno, either, but this stuff KICKS ASS)
9) Traci Lords: 1,000 Fires ("Control" is seven minutes long and could, no word of a lie, raise me from the dead if necessary)
10) 20 Great Love songs of the 50's and 60's ("Downtown", "Oh, Lonesome Me", "A Teenager In Love", and "Please Don't Tell Me Now")
Okay, enough about my taste in music when I'm delirious from built-up brain toxins. Some day, I'll tell you about other music I find appealing... some day when I've had more sleep, that is. Goodnight!
Well, it's all over but the burning of the CDs -- the last pages of "Girl Genius" have been approved by Phil and Kaja Foglio, and I'm prepping the pages to send off tomorrow. The whole job was 47 pages, and I think it's some of the best work I've ever done; our styles really seem to mesh well, or I think so anyway. Phil might have a different opinion ;-), but if so, he hasn't voiced it to me directly.
When I'm down to the last hours of hard work on an art job, the choice of music becomes ESSENTIAL in keeping up my energy levels so I don't just crash and burn. I have several specially-made CD mixes of high energy music, funky music, romantic music, und so weiter, but when the pressure's on, the groove that REALLY gets me through that gee-I've-been-up-for-30-hours-now burn comes down to the following favorites (with representative tracks):
1) The Village People's Greatest Hits (including that always-makes-me-happy track "YMCA"... there's nothing like being short on sleep and getting re-energized by dancing around the studio making those Y-M-C-A arm movements...)
2) The Nightriders: 20 Famous Trucking Songs ("Convoy", "Rubber Duck", "Truckin' Man Type Motel" and "Eighteen Wheeler")
3) Barry Manilow's Greatest Hits Volume 1 AND 2 (I've never seen my husband grow paler than the day I brought those home and threatened to play them out loud in the studio in his presence!)
4) "Weird Al Yankovic": Alapalooza ("Jurassic Park", "Achy Breaky Song", and "Talk Soup"... this album doesn't include my all-time favorites, though: "One More Minute" and "This Is The Life", which are Weird Al at his most delightfully demented)
5) The Very Best Of Country Line Dancing ("Achy Breaky Heart", "Boot Scoot Boogie", and "Cadillac Ranch")
6) Prince: The Batman-Inspired Album ("The Future", "Electric Chair", and "Lemon Crush")
7) The Backstreet Boys: Millennium (I know, I know -- don't kill me! This album goes to prove that I'll listen to stuff when I'm stupid-tired that I wouldn't go within ten feet of when I'm awake and sane)
8) Shamen: Boss Drum (I don't usually like techno, either, but this stuff KICKS ASS)
9) Traci Lords: 1,000 Fires ("Control" is seven minutes long and could, no word of a lie, raise me from the dead if necessary)
10) 20 Great Love songs of the 50's and 60's ("Downtown", "Oh, Lonesome Me", "A Teenager In Love", and "Please Don't Tell Me Now")
Okay, enough about my taste in music when I'm delirious from built-up brain toxins. Some day, I'll tell you about other music I find appealing... some day when I've had more sleep, that is. Goodnight!
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-06 - 3:02 a.m.)
Yay! It's chat night again! *grin*
The A.I. Roleplaying Group kicks off its sixteenth chat session tonight, at 7:30 pm CST in the "Clear and Haunting Visions" Chat Room. As usual, we'll be running until about 12:30 am CST, and spectators are more than welcome as long as they don't interfere with the course of roleplay.
The characters have been through various versions of hell so far, as follows:
Cal McPherson's apartment was totalled in a firefight three scenes ago.
Frank Schweitz's vintage car has been largely trashed in a high-speed chase which occured two scenes back.
Nicky Panzini's arm was torn up by a bullet, he almost bled to death, and the arm is currently a major source of misery. Oh, AND he's had an oracular vision of the end of the world as we know it. As he would say: "Oh, yip."
Monica Swinton is on the run from the police.
Hal McGeever has lost an essential part of his VR rig.
And Gigolo Joe... well, let's just say that the last few days have included the second, third, and fourth worst days of his entire existence to this point :-P).
Cecie Martin has something to smile about -- she's got Joe, the love of her life, back after having lost him for two whole years -- but she's also in deep shit with the Coalition for Robotic Freedom, so nothing is perfect. ;-)
Only Tsivil Joblowski is relatively free of worry and care. Her Mecha companion Sirus, on the other hand, has an apocalyptic doomsday computer virus buzzing around in his head, which will catch Tsivil pretty much by surprise when it suddenly rears its ugly head and starts biting people's faces off.
Hee hee hee... I get to make characters suffer! Being a game master is more fun than I could ever have imagined! >:-)
Yay! It's chat night again! *grin*
The A.I. Roleplaying Group kicks off its sixteenth chat session tonight, at 7:30 pm CST in the "Clear and Haunting Visions" Chat Room. As usual, we'll be running until about 12:30 am CST, and spectators are more than welcome as long as they don't interfere with the course of roleplay.
The characters have been through various versions of hell so far, as follows:
Cal McPherson's apartment was totalled in a firefight three scenes ago.
Frank Schweitz's vintage car has been largely trashed in a high-speed chase which occured two scenes back.
Nicky Panzini's arm was torn up by a bullet, he almost bled to death, and the arm is currently a major source of misery. Oh, AND he's had an oracular vision of the end of the world as we know it. As he would say: "Oh, yip."
Monica Swinton is on the run from the police.
Hal McGeever has lost an essential part of his VR rig.
And Gigolo Joe... well, let's just say that the last few days have included the second, third, and fourth worst days of his entire existence to this point :-P).
Cecie Martin has something to smile about -- she's got Joe, the love of her life, back after having lost him for two whole years -- but she's also in deep shit with the Coalition for Robotic Freedom, so nothing is perfect. ;-)
Only Tsivil Joblowski is relatively free of worry and care. Her Mecha companion Sirus, on the other hand, has an apocalyptic doomsday computer virus buzzing around in his head, which will catch Tsivil pretty much by surprise when it suddenly rears its ugly head and starts biting people's faces off.
Hee hee hee... I get to make characters suffer! Being a game master is more fun than I could ever have imagined! >:-)
We RPed from Saturday 7:30 pm CST to Sunday 3:30 am CST in the "Clear and Haunting Visions" Bravenet Chat Room, one of the best and funniest gaming sessions I've had in a very long time.
This is a terrific cast of characters, capable of both high drama and low comedy. Last night we also got a taste of the VR universe, Nightside, that Matrix Refugee has been working on, and I can hardly wait to get further into it. (We also had the consumption of deep-fried newts, but that's a different story entirely.)
I just hope I'm playing Gigolo Joe convincingly... last night I found myself fighting a tendency to slip into Data (from Star Trek: The Next Generation) speech patterns, which is a different voice entirely. The inside of Joe's head is a very strange place, full of programmed behavior patterns, probability calculations, odd angles and large gaps of what humans consider common knowledge (last night, for example, he figured out for the first time that all food is ALIVE before it becomes food, lol).
Gotta love him. :-D
This is a terrific cast of characters, capable of both high drama and low comedy. Last night we also got a taste of the VR universe, Nightside, that Matrix Refugee has been working on, and I can hardly wait to get further into it. (We also had the consumption of deep-fried newts, but that's a different story entirely.)
I just hope I'm playing Gigolo Joe convincingly... last night I found myself fighting a tendency to slip into Data (from Star Trek: The Next Generation) speech patterns, which is a different voice entirely. The inside of Joe's head is a very strange place, full of programmed behavior patterns, probability calculations, odd angles and large gaps of what humans consider common knowledge (last night, for example, he figured out for the first time that all food is ALIVE before it becomes food, lol).
Gotta love him. :-D
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-09 - 9:42 p.m.)
Last night, interesting news came over the home studio telephone while I was working a shift at Ipsos-Reid: a studio in Brandon, Manitoba is doing a three-issue Captain Canuck miniseries, and I was recommended as a colorist for it.
While my husband, George Freeman, refuses to work on the project (morally he just doesn't feel comfortable with how one of the other people originally involved in the Captain Canuck concept have been marketting the property), he doesn't have a problem with me painting it. So tonight a phone call with the head of the Brandon studio hashed out things like page rate, number of proofs on each page, terms of delivery, terms of payment, and all the other fun things that need to be figured out and incorporated into a contract before work can begin.
Getting my teeth into a book always fills me with almost equal parts cutting-edge excitement and fearful, shadowy doubt. I have been told that I have low self-esteem (and know it), and with each book comes the little thrill of dread: will I crash and burn on this one? Will I end up suiciding before I finish it? Taking on a book commits me to a certain number of days alive -- which is, I suppose, not a bad thing.
So, here's to new hopes and new fears!
Last night, interesting news came over the home studio telephone while I was working a shift at Ipsos-Reid: a studio in Brandon, Manitoba is doing a three-issue Captain Canuck miniseries, and I was recommended as a colorist for it.
While my husband, George Freeman, refuses to work on the project (morally he just doesn't feel comfortable with how one of the other people originally involved in the Captain Canuck concept have been marketting the property), he doesn't have a problem with me painting it. So tonight a phone call with the head of the Brandon studio hashed out things like page rate, number of proofs on each page, terms of delivery, terms of payment, and all the other fun things that need to be figured out and incorporated into a contract before work can begin.
Getting my teeth into a book always fills me with almost equal parts cutting-edge excitement and fearful, shadowy doubt. I have been told that I have low self-esteem (and know it), and with each book comes the little thrill of dread: will I crash and burn on this one? Will I end up suiciding before I finish it? Taking on a book commits me to a certain number of days alive -- which is, I suppose, not a bad thing.
So, here's to new hopes and new fears!
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-09 - 9:51 p.m.)
Someday -- but not today. I'm not in the mood. Though I HAVE said I'd do an entry on the 10 Commandments monument flap in Alabama... fortunately, that particular tempest in a teapot shows no sign of cooling down any time soon.
As for the AI RP, we finally discovered the Calendar feature of the Yahoo! Group site and are using it to coordinate our schedules for the next roleplaying chat session -- Scene 17, how far we've come... As MR pointed out on the mailing list, it's only been three days since we played Scene 16 and already her characters -- Cecie, Frank, and Hal -- are itching to get back at it!
WARNING: I'm going to be discussing my RP character, Gigolo Joe, for the rest of this entry. Just thought I'd let you know, so you don't get to the end of the post and say, "That's IT? Why didn't she warn me?" ;-) Still with me? Here we go...
Personally, I'm really looking forward to stepping inside Joe's sleek head again. He is starting to surprise me, which is something I had not expected. Every so often as I play him, he takes a sidestep and heads off at an angle that leaves me scrambling to catch up (such as his piece of deduction regarding food in Scene 16, which I've mentioned in an earlier post). Joe is turning out to be both simpler and more complex than I originally envisioned. What have I gotten myself into?
Plus, Joe in his single-minded (albeit courtly) pursuit of sexual encounters with every Orga he meets is a real challenge to my roleplaying abilities. When you see the world as a series of romantic adventures, moving from man to man or woman to woman and driven by equal parts purpose and whimsy, it means that whole lines of reasoning taken for granted by the human mind are RIGHT out.
Hence, Joe does things (or will do things) that cause me, as the player, to want to scream at him: "No! NO! Are you NUTS? Don't... just... *sigh* oh, never mind..." Keeping inside the boundaries of his internal worldview is both confining and exhilarating -- and, in an odd way, liberating. Like a child, Joe is fundamentally an innocent. He reacts to things immediately and often guilelessly.
Not unlike Hal (okay, so I lied... I'm mentioning other RP characters), though Hal is by no stretch of the imagination even vaguely close to innocent (unless you count his frontal lobe damage, which renders him closer to the animal than most Orga in the game). Each character in the game fascinates me in their own way, and in Hal I see both Joe's opposite and his equivalent -- if ordinary human awareness/consciousness is taken as a middle point, Joe is at one end of the spectrum (robotic, and dispassionate) and Hal is at the other (animalistic, and highly passionate).
Yet somehow they *click* together. When I started the RP, I thought that I'd find the Joe/Monica and Joe/Cecie interactions the most entertaining as a player (as the GM, or course, all interactions fascinate me), but Joe/Hal has its own little "thing" going on and is just as interesting. I'm looking forward to seeing where all of them end up going as the horde of Vorpal Bunnies descends upon the group, waving flaming carrots and singing songs of death and -- oops, did I just type that out loud? Never mind... ;-)
Someday -- but not today. I'm not in the mood. Though I HAVE said I'd do an entry on the 10 Commandments monument flap in Alabama... fortunately, that particular tempest in a teapot shows no sign of cooling down any time soon.
As for the AI RP, we finally discovered the Calendar feature of the Yahoo! Group site and are using it to coordinate our schedules for the next roleplaying chat session -- Scene 17, how far we've come... As MR pointed out on the mailing list, it's only been three days since we played Scene 16 and already her characters -- Cecie, Frank, and Hal -- are itching to get back at it!
WARNING: I'm going to be discussing my RP character, Gigolo Joe, for the rest of this entry. Just thought I'd let you know, so you don't get to the end of the post and say, "That's IT? Why didn't she warn me?" ;-) Still with me? Here we go...
Personally, I'm really looking forward to stepping inside Joe's sleek head again. He is starting to surprise me, which is something I had not expected. Every so often as I play him, he takes a sidestep and heads off at an angle that leaves me scrambling to catch up (such as his piece of deduction regarding food in Scene 16, which I've mentioned in an earlier post). Joe is turning out to be both simpler and more complex than I originally envisioned. What have I gotten myself into?
Plus, Joe in his single-minded (albeit courtly) pursuit of sexual encounters with every Orga he meets is a real challenge to my roleplaying abilities. When you see the world as a series of romantic adventures, moving from man to man or woman to woman and driven by equal parts purpose and whimsy, it means that whole lines of reasoning taken for granted by the human mind are RIGHT out.
Hence, Joe does things (or will do things) that cause me, as the player, to want to scream at him: "No! NO! Are you NUTS? Don't... just... *sigh* oh, never mind..." Keeping inside the boundaries of his internal worldview is both confining and exhilarating -- and, in an odd way, liberating. Like a child, Joe is fundamentally an innocent. He reacts to things immediately and often guilelessly.
Not unlike Hal (okay, so I lied... I'm mentioning other RP characters), though Hal is by no stretch of the imagination even vaguely close to innocent (unless you count his frontal lobe damage, which renders him closer to the animal than most Orga in the game). Each character in the game fascinates me in their own way, and in Hal I see both Joe's opposite and his equivalent -- if ordinary human awareness/consciousness is taken as a middle point, Joe is at one end of the spectrum (robotic, and dispassionate) and Hal is at the other (animalistic, and highly passionate).
Yet somehow they *click* together. When I started the RP, I thought that I'd find the Joe/Monica and Joe/Cecie interactions the most entertaining as a player (as the GM, or course, all interactions fascinate me), but Joe/Hal has its own little "thing" going on and is just as interesting. I'm looking forward to seeing where all of them end up going as the horde of Vorpal Bunnies descends upon the group, waving flaming carrots and singing songs of death and -- oops, did I just type that out loud? Never mind... ;-)
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-10 - 5:46 p.m.)
I got a phone message from them today offering me a day shift position (I currently work evenings). This is an almost unheard of offer to someone like me, who's only been with the company seven or eight months. Naturally I'm tremendously flattered, but it would mean some major adjustments to my sleep/activity schedule, AND I'm not sure yet what the day position exactly entails.
Tomorrow I'll ask some questions to help me make the decision. Man, someone like me on an 8am-4pm job... who'd have thought it? :-P
(Reflecting that it's either feast or famine... four months ago, I couldn't get enough work. Now, I'm getting too much.)
I got a phone message from them today offering me a day shift position (I currently work evenings). This is an almost unheard of offer to someone like me, who's only been with the company seven or eight months. Naturally I'm tremendously flattered, but it would mean some major adjustments to my sleep/activity schedule, AND I'm not sure yet what the day position exactly entails.
Tomorrow I'll ask some questions to help me make the decision. Man, someone like me on an 8am-4pm job... who'd have thought it? :-P
(Reflecting that it's either feast or famine... four months ago, I couldn't get enough work. Now, I'm getting too much.)
2003-09-11 - 11:47 p.m.
So said Arnold Rimmer in "Red Dwarf", and so I am apparently doing at Ipsos-Reid.
I got my 6-month performance evaluation tonight. It included a 55 cent raise (bringing me from $8 Canadian to $9.80 in that same 6-month period), notification that I'm eligible to test to a Level Three interviewer (which is damned fast by all accounts), AND an offer to move to the 5-day-a-week day shift. If I test to Level Three successfully, my wage will automatically increase to $10.50/hour.
It has been a day of triumphs.
But also a day with one annoyance -- an inspiration slogan which I created especially for a Team Denmark meeting has just appeared on one of the big whiteboards at the head of the field area, but with a DIFFERENT person's initials attached as creating it. I've put a bug in the ear of one of the supervisors, and hopefully it will be sorted out quickly. I find that kind of creative theft distasteful in the extreme... which, considering that I write fan fiction, is a bit ironic, n'est pas?
So said Arnold Rimmer in "Red Dwarf", and so I am apparently doing at Ipsos-Reid.
I got my 6-month performance evaluation tonight. It included a 55 cent raise (bringing me from $8 Canadian to $9.80 in that same 6-month period), notification that I'm eligible to test to a Level Three interviewer (which is damned fast by all accounts), AND an offer to move to the 5-day-a-week day shift. If I test to Level Three successfully, my wage will automatically increase to $10.50/hour.
It has been a day of triumphs.
But also a day with one annoyance -- an inspiration slogan which I created especially for a Team Denmark meeting has just appeared on one of the big whiteboards at the head of the field area, but with a DIFFERENT person's initials attached as creating it. I've put a bug in the ear of one of the supervisors, and hopefully it will be sorted out quickly. I find that kind of creative theft distasteful in the extreme... which, considering that I write fan fiction, is a bit ironic, n'est pas?
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-13 - 11:15 p.m.)
I just got word from a friend of my husband's today that he's arranged for me to audition for an radio series he's writing. The auditions were officially closed four days ago, but when I happened to answer the phone for my husband a couple of days ago, his friend immediately remembered, "Hey! Laurie has a GREAT voice! I've gotta get her an audition for my series!"
So, tomorrow I go to do a reading. I've done an hour-long radio play about three years ago, endless hours of live-action roleplaying, plus voice-work at Ipsos-Reid as an interviewer, so we'll see what happens. It's a fantasy detective series, and looking at the script I was emailed, I suspect I'll be reading for the part of the Magic Mirror in his office. I already know exactly how I'm going to approach it, too. This should be fun!
I just got word from a friend of my husband's today that he's arranged for me to audition for an radio series he's writing. The auditions were officially closed four days ago, but when I happened to answer the phone for my husband a couple of days ago, his friend immediately remembered, "Hey! Laurie has a GREAT voice! I've gotta get her an audition for my series!"
So, tomorrow I go to do a reading. I've done an hour-long radio play about three years ago, endless hours of live-action roleplaying, plus voice-work at Ipsos-Reid as an interviewer, so we'll see what happens. It's a fantasy detective series, and looking at the script I was emailed, I suspect I'll be reading for the part of the Magic Mirror in his office. I already know exactly how I'm going to approach it, too. This should be fun!
2003-09-16 - 6:47 p.m.
My head has been down over my work for so long that this one crept up and almost hit me between the eyes. But I saw it coming! And can even schedule the time off to attend.
Best way to explain it is via the press release...
*****************
Pagan Pride Day Winnipeg 2003
Merry meet! As most of you know, Pagan Pride Day Winnipeg 2003 is quickly approaching! I would like to take this opportunity, on behalf of the hard working Ladies of Circle of the Cauldron, to invite you all to come out and play.
This year's event is being held on Sunday, September 21st, from noon untill 6:30pm. (Community ritual to follow at 7pm). It will be held at the Picnic Grounds, Assiniboine Park.
Our theme this year is, "A Gathering of Earth-Centred Spirituality." We feel this is about uniting as a community, and celebrating our similarities and our diversity by honouring "the ways." To that end, we are delighted this year to have many speakers in the Wisdom and Learning Temple, presenting information about varied paths and Traditions within Paganism.
As well, we are honoured to present the talents of many local performers in the Music and Movement Temple. Little Pagans(accompanied by their own supervising adult) can enjoy crafts, stories and more in the Forest Faerie Playground.
As requested last year, we are excited to present the Garden of Divination. Readers will be on hand in private tents. Find something special and support local bussiness on Mechant's row. (Diagon Alley has got nothing on these folks!)
PLEASE NOTE: in accordance with city by-laws, there are NO food vendors on Merchant's row. Please bring yourself whatever you will need for the day. Speaking of food, we are once again collecting non-perishables for Winnipeg Harvest. We were in awe of the generousity of the community last year, and ask that you please give of your abundance to those in need again. Look forward to seeing you all! Blessings, Amy Moore-Peters, Coordinator, PPD Wpg.
*****************
Every day, I thank God and Goddess that I live in Canada, a country where a religious celebration that's NOT mainstream can be held in public without interference.
Well, almost. Last year's Pagan Pride celebration had one small group of five Christians show up early in the day and stand in a circle facing inward, singing hymns, but they moved along when one of the PPD organizers approached them and politely asked them not to sing so loudly, since it was interfering with a bellydancing workshop going on nearby.
And if that's all we have to face, we're incredibly blessed and incredibly lucky.
My head has been down over my work for so long that this one crept up and almost hit me between the eyes. But I saw it coming! And can even schedule the time off to attend.
Best way to explain it is via the press release...
*****************
Pagan Pride Day Winnipeg 2003
Merry meet! As most of you know, Pagan Pride Day Winnipeg 2003 is quickly approaching! I would like to take this opportunity, on behalf of the hard working Ladies of Circle of the Cauldron, to invite you all to come out and play.
This year's event is being held on Sunday, September 21st, from noon untill 6:30pm. (Community ritual to follow at 7pm). It will be held at the Picnic Grounds, Assiniboine Park.
Our theme this year is, "A Gathering of Earth-Centred Spirituality." We feel this is about uniting as a community, and celebrating our similarities and our diversity by honouring "the ways." To that end, we are delighted this year to have many speakers in the Wisdom and Learning Temple, presenting information about varied paths and Traditions within Paganism.
As well, we are honoured to present the talents of many local performers in the Music and Movement Temple. Little Pagans(accompanied by their own supervising adult) can enjoy crafts, stories and more in the Forest Faerie Playground.
As requested last year, we are excited to present the Garden of Divination. Readers will be on hand in private tents. Find something special and support local bussiness on Mechant's row. (Diagon Alley has got nothing on these folks!)
PLEASE NOTE: in accordance with city by-laws, there are NO food vendors on Merchant's row. Please bring yourself whatever you will need for the day. Speaking of food, we are once again collecting non-perishables for Winnipeg Harvest. We were in awe of the generousity of the community last year, and ask that you please give of your abundance to those in need again. Look forward to seeing you all! Blessings, Amy Moore-Peters, Coordinator, PPD Wpg.
*****************
Every day, I thank God and Goddess that I live in Canada, a country where a religious celebration that's NOT mainstream can be held in public without interference.
Well, almost. Last year's Pagan Pride celebration had one small group of five Christians show up early in the day and stand in a circle facing inward, singing hymns, but they moved along when one of the PPD organizers approached them and politely asked them not to sing so loudly, since it was interfering with a bellydancing workshop going on nearby.
And if that's all we have to face, we're incredibly blessed and incredibly lucky.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-17 - 10:30 p.m.)
God, I hate being sick.
It feels like I have the flu. My hands ache (not much fun when you have to paint 22 comic pages, plus a cover), my head aches, my throat burns like I swallowed hot ashes, I'm tired, depressed, and generally out of sorts. Severe mood swings always accompany illness for me, and I've been alternately wanting to cry and ready to tear into my husband (or myself) in a fit of fury. Even more than the physical discomfort, I detest the feeling of utter *uselessness* that comes with sickness.
Tomorrow I have a shift on the phones at Ipsos-Reid, and the best thing I can do right now is NOT think about that. Just take things one minute at a time. The prospect of the running around I have to do tomorrow before going to work is just too much to handle.
God, I hate being sick.
It feels like I have the flu. My hands ache (not much fun when you have to paint 22 comic pages, plus a cover), my head aches, my throat burns like I swallowed hot ashes, I'm tired, depressed, and generally out of sorts. Severe mood swings always accompany illness for me, and I've been alternately wanting to cry and ready to tear into my husband (or myself) in a fit of fury. Even more than the physical discomfort, I detest the feeling of utter *uselessness* that comes with sickness.
Tomorrow I have a shift on the phones at Ipsos-Reid, and the best thing I can do right now is NOT think about that. Just take things one minute at a time. The prospect of the running around I have to do tomorrow before going to work is just too much to handle.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-18 - 11:58 p.m.)
... on my way home from work at Ipsos-Reid tonight, I decided to get off the bus two stops early and drop by the 7-11 convenience store on Corydon Avenue (the main street of Winnipeg's Little Italy district) for a can of catfood. Once it was bought and tucked inside my bag, I ducked down a sidestreet to McMillan Avenue, half a block north of Corydon, and walked three long blocks down it to our apartment building on the corner of McMillan Avenue and Wentworth Street.
Corydon Avenue is beautiful at any time of the year -- full of elegant shop windows, neon signs, streetside cafes and outdoor restaurant patios decorated with multicolored Christmas lights entwined in the branches of lush overhanging trees.
McMillan Avenue, though removed from the constant street traffic that Corydon boasts even at 11 pm on a weekday night, is no less lovely. Unlike all other North American cities, Winnipeg has been able to save most of its mature elm trees from the ravages of dutch elm disease, and they tower five stories over the boulevards, arching over the roadways to mingle their branches. As I walked home through the autumn night already spiced with the tang of coming cold weather, the soft sighing of their leaves kept me company.
It's a night to make me realize how lovely my home city is, and how blessed I am to live here. The houses up and down the street seemed smiling and full of light. A few fallen leaves were already lying in the gutters, reminding me that I'll need to gather some up soon for my Samhain altar at the end of October. The pavement glistened with wetness. There was so little vehicular traffic that I walk into the middle of the intersection closest to my home and stand there, turning to look in all four directions in turn down empty streets that stretch as far as I can see. The dislocation from my usual headspace (the headspace of every other member of my society, which tells me that you DON'T stand in the middle of intersections) was oddly pleasing, and I enjoyed it for several seconds before reluctantly returning to the sidewalk where all good and sane pedestrians are supposed confine their footsteps.
Little moments like that are meant to savor, for they are pure magic.
... on my way home from work at Ipsos-Reid tonight, I decided to get off the bus two stops early and drop by the 7-11 convenience store on Corydon Avenue (the main street of Winnipeg's Little Italy district) for a can of catfood. Once it was bought and tucked inside my bag, I ducked down a sidestreet to McMillan Avenue, half a block north of Corydon, and walked three long blocks down it to our apartment building on the corner of McMillan Avenue and Wentworth Street.
Corydon Avenue is beautiful at any time of the year -- full of elegant shop windows, neon signs, streetside cafes and outdoor restaurant patios decorated with multicolored Christmas lights entwined in the branches of lush overhanging trees.
McMillan Avenue, though removed from the constant street traffic that Corydon boasts even at 11 pm on a weekday night, is no less lovely. Unlike all other North American cities, Winnipeg has been able to save most of its mature elm trees from the ravages of dutch elm disease, and they tower five stories over the boulevards, arching over the roadways to mingle their branches. As I walked home through the autumn night already spiced with the tang of coming cold weather, the soft sighing of their leaves kept me company.
It's a night to make me realize how lovely my home city is, and how blessed I am to live here. The houses up and down the street seemed smiling and full of light. A few fallen leaves were already lying in the gutters, reminding me that I'll need to gather some up soon for my Samhain altar at the end of October. The pavement glistened with wetness. There was so little vehicular traffic that I walk into the middle of the intersection closest to my home and stand there, turning to look in all four directions in turn down empty streets that stretch as far as I can see. The dislocation from my usual headspace (the headspace of every other member of my society, which tells me that you DON'T stand in the middle of intersections) was oddly pleasing, and I enjoyed it for several seconds before reluctantly returning to the sidewalk where all good and sane pedestrians are supposed confine their footsteps.
Little moments like that are meant to savor, for they are pure magic.
(originally posted to Diaryland, 2003-09-19 - 11:38 p.m.)
Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.
Fcuknig amzanig huh?
(sent to me by my brother-in-law Chuck, who has a nutty sense of humor at the best of times. :-D)
Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.
Fcuknig amzanig huh?
(sent to me by my brother-in-law Chuck, who has a nutty sense of humor at the best of times. :-D)
(originally posted to Dairyland.com, 2003-09-23 - 12:27 a.m.)
Because sometimes Real Life is too much to write about, we present the following link for your amusment and edification:
Because sometimes Real Life is too much to write about, we present the following link for your amusment and edification:
C.Y.B.O.R.G. @ The Brunching Shuttlecocks
My own results...
L.A.U.R.I.E.: Lifelike Artificial Unit Responsible for Infiltration and Exploration
J.O.E.: Judge Optimized for Exploration
C.H.I.M.E.R.A.: Cybernetic Hydraulic Individual Manufactured for Efficient Repair and Assassination
E.M.M.I.E.: Electronic Mechanical Machine Intended for Exploration
Okay... the last one, based on the name of my cat, naturally leads to the Cat Dynamics -- Cat Technology Specialists page.
Have fun, kids, and play safe!
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-24 - 3:25 p.m.)
No time for long entries today -- I have to lay flats on 11 pages of Captain Canuck AND run an AI RP chat at 10:30 tonight. No rest for the wicked, I suppose.
But I DID take time to post to a new AI roleplaying group, the Mecha Freedom Network. You can find their forum at:
http://www.midnightcrow.co.uk/mrn.html
Just go to the Resistance Net link.
I've taken the name Montana Crow, and am playing the live-in manager of a retreat resort in Montana who has taken a local pack of discarded Mecha under her wing. With the promise to try and get some of the Mecha to post to the forum, I might get the chance to speak in a number of different voices. Should be fun!
A brief plug for my own AI roleplaying group -- http://groups.yahoo.com/group/A_I_Artificial_Intelligence_RP/ -- and away I go... (paint paint paint)
No time for long entries today -- I have to lay flats on 11 pages of Captain Canuck AND run an AI RP chat at 10:30 tonight. No rest for the wicked, I suppose.
But I DID take time to post to a new AI roleplaying group, the Mecha Freedom Network. You can find their forum at:
http://www.midnightcrow.co.uk/mrn.html
Just go to the Resistance Net link.
I've taken the name Montana Crow, and am playing the live-in manager of a retreat resort in Montana who has taken a local pack of discarded Mecha under her wing. With the promise to try and get some of the Mecha to post to the forum, I might get the chance to speak in a number of different voices. Should be fun!
A brief plug for my own AI roleplaying group -- http://groups.yahoo.com/group/A_I_Artificial_Intelligence_RP/ -- and away I go... (paint paint paint)
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-24 - 3:34 p.m.)
I have Borderline Personality Disorder (though I've largely got it under control these days), which involves a constant nagging fear of not being good enough, of being scorned, of being abandoned. So when MR posted a link to a new AI RP site, the Mecha Freedom Network, at
http://www.midnightcrow.co.uk/mrn.html
I found myself panicking a little.
Is the AI RP I'm running good enough? Will people like the MFN better, and leave in droves? Insecurity gnaws at my sense of accomplishment. I'm afraid that everything I've worked for will come tumbling down in ruins.
I ran into the same problem when MR put up her excellent AI Fan Fiction Online Archive -- the terror that it made my own fan fiction page on CHV obsolete, and anger that something I'd worked hard for was being taken away. Now, I know that's NOT the case (though I gave MR a bit of grief over it, for which I hope she can forgive me), and nowadays I can cut through most of the instinctive fear and anger response with cognitive strategies, but still...
... and people wonder why someone like me would be suicidal. The wounds I received in childhood continue to bleed. But I keep working at living through each day, holding onto the hope that my life will hurt less as I learn more and more. Even on days like today, when I don't particularly believe it in my heart.
I have Borderline Personality Disorder (though I've largely got it under control these days), which involves a constant nagging fear of not being good enough, of being scorned, of being abandoned. So when MR posted a link to a new AI RP site, the Mecha Freedom Network, at
http://www.midnightcrow.co.uk/mrn.html
I found myself panicking a little.
Is the AI RP I'm running good enough? Will people like the MFN better, and leave in droves? Insecurity gnaws at my sense of accomplishment. I'm afraid that everything I've worked for will come tumbling down in ruins.
I ran into the same problem when MR put up her excellent AI Fan Fiction Online Archive -- the terror that it made my own fan fiction page on CHV obsolete, and anger that something I'd worked hard for was being taken away. Now, I know that's NOT the case (though I gave MR a bit of grief over it, for which I hope she can forgive me), and nowadays I can cut through most of the instinctive fear and anger response with cognitive strategies, but still...
... and people wonder why someone like me would be suicidal. The wounds I received in childhood continue to bleed. But I keep working at living through each day, holding onto the hope that my life will hurt less as I learn more and more. Even on days like today, when I don't particularly believe it in my heart.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-26 - 10:54 p.m.)
I ended up leaving work an hour and fifteen minutes early today because I just couldn't get my panic and depression under control enough to keep working. One irate respondant (it was a Sprint "why did you disconnect?" survey) would pretty much have left me a basket case.
Last Thursday I happened to get one respondant who, in the course of asking me to "take him off the list" (we don't usually have a list, all numbers are randomly generated), went ballistic when I tried to confirm his phone number, which I'm required to do before placing him on the Do Not Call list.
The conversation went something like this:
Me: "Good evening, my name is Laurie and I'm calling on behalf of --"
Him: "DON'T EVER CALL HERE AGAIN!"
Me: "Sir, I'll be happy to --"
Him (one font size larger): "DON'T EVER CALL HERE AGAIN! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!"
Me: "Sir, if I can --"
Him (in screaming, knife-wielding 18 point type): "DO YOU UNDERSTAND! DO -- YOU -- UNDER -- STAND -- (go to 36 point type) BITCH!!!!"
At that point, all I could say was "Yes, sir" and terminate the call.
At first I was annoyed, and somewhat angry, not to mention disgusted that I'd encountered such a low manifestation of the human lifeform (one who couldn't even pretend to observe the common courtesies that keep our society running as painlessly as possible). But as the evening went on, I realized that he'd made a very small knife wound in my psyche that was rapidly starting to bleed out.
The word "bitch" is a trigger for me. I thought I'd gotten over it, that I could control its effects, but within a couple of hours I was struggling with the reflex emotional reaction that it causes -- paralyzing anger, rage, self-loathing to the point of slashing myself with knives and suicidal hatred of my female-ness. Women are dirty bitches, and I'm one, and I don't deserve to live.
I managed to function. I made it through the shift and got home in one piece; I was even able to eat dinner with my husband and do some email, pushing the venom down into the deeper levels of my mind away from conscious awareness. In part this was the function of the skills I learned in DBT training, and they did their job. In part it was the reflex learned from childhood of swallowing my pain because nobody would listen and in fact speaking of my pain brought invalidation ("You don't feel angry/hurt/sad!") or outright punishment ("You selfish cunt!").
But as soon as I stopped moving -- as soon as I started running a bath and stepping myself down to prepare for sleep -- everything fell apart, and suddenly I was back in that place where I was a "filthy little bitch". I hadn't been there in many years. It was a horrible return visit.
I chose not to go to work the next day, since I couldn't face the chance of taking another hit in that profoundly wounded place. But I managed to go back to work on Monday and get back on the horse, one call at a time, overcoming the fear with action. The aftershocks are still shaking me up. Tonight I checked out early and walked away into the cold autumn night because the wound ached too badly. But at least I could go to work, which is better than I would have done a few years ago. I'm surviving.
Some days I don't want to. Like Tuesday -- I went for a mammogram, which (for any males who happen to be reading this, if ANYONE reads this at all) involves putting your breast between two flat surfaces and squeezing it almost flat so an x-ray machine can snapshot the internal structures. When you're about to start your period that very day (as I was) the breast is tender to begin with, and doesn't take at ALL kindly to being compressed with maximum force. Well, at least I won't need another one for a couple of years, if I'm lucky.
I ended up leaving work an hour and fifteen minutes early today because I just couldn't get my panic and depression under control enough to keep working. One irate respondant (it was a Sprint "why did you disconnect?" survey) would pretty much have left me a basket case.
Last Thursday I happened to get one respondant who, in the course of asking me to "take him off the list" (we don't usually have a list, all numbers are randomly generated), went ballistic when I tried to confirm his phone number, which I'm required to do before placing him on the Do Not Call list.
The conversation went something like this:
Me: "Good evening, my name is Laurie and I'm calling on behalf of --"
Him: "DON'T EVER CALL HERE AGAIN!"
Me: "Sir, I'll be happy to --"
Him (one font size larger): "DON'T EVER CALL HERE AGAIN! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!"
Me: "Sir, if I can --"
Him (in screaming, knife-wielding 18 point type): "DO YOU UNDERSTAND! DO -- YOU -- UNDER -- STAND -- (go to 36 point type) BITCH!!!!"
At that point, all I could say was "Yes, sir" and terminate the call.
At first I was annoyed, and somewhat angry, not to mention disgusted that I'd encountered such a low manifestation of the human lifeform (one who couldn't even pretend to observe the common courtesies that keep our society running as painlessly as possible). But as the evening went on, I realized that he'd made a very small knife wound in my psyche that was rapidly starting to bleed out.
The word "bitch" is a trigger for me. I thought I'd gotten over it, that I could control its effects, but within a couple of hours I was struggling with the reflex emotional reaction that it causes -- paralyzing anger, rage, self-loathing to the point of slashing myself with knives and suicidal hatred of my female-ness. Women are dirty bitches, and I'm one, and I don't deserve to live.
I managed to function. I made it through the shift and got home in one piece; I was even able to eat dinner with my husband and do some email, pushing the venom down into the deeper levels of my mind away from conscious awareness. In part this was the function of the skills I learned in DBT training, and they did their job. In part it was the reflex learned from childhood of swallowing my pain because nobody would listen and in fact speaking of my pain brought invalidation ("You don't feel angry/hurt/sad!") or outright punishment ("You selfish cunt!").
But as soon as I stopped moving -- as soon as I started running a bath and stepping myself down to prepare for sleep -- everything fell apart, and suddenly I was back in that place where I was a "filthy little bitch". I hadn't been there in many years. It was a horrible return visit.
I chose not to go to work the next day, since I couldn't face the chance of taking another hit in that profoundly wounded place. But I managed to go back to work on Monday and get back on the horse, one call at a time, overcoming the fear with action. The aftershocks are still shaking me up. Tonight I checked out early and walked away into the cold autumn night because the wound ached too badly. But at least I could go to work, which is better than I would have done a few years ago. I'm surviving.
Some days I don't want to. Like Tuesday -- I went for a mammogram, which (for any males who happen to be reading this, if ANYONE reads this at all) involves putting your breast between two flat surfaces and squeezing it almost flat so an x-ray machine can snapshot the internal structures. When you're about to start your period that very day (as I was) the breast is tender to begin with, and doesn't take at ALL kindly to being compressed with maximum force. Well, at least I won't need another one for a couple of years, if I'm lucky.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-27 - 3:34 p.m.)
PART 1: HOW I FOUND OUT...
I just got wind of this in an email from the Winnipeg Humane Society:
"IFAW WANTS A PHOTO OF YOUR PET TO TAKE TO PARLIAMENT
As you may or may not know, the Senate wants to make changes to Bill C-10B that will weaken the bill so significantly that it would be better to not have it pass at all. Currently the House of Commons is preparing to send Bill C-10B back to the Senate without accepting their changes. This is good news for the animals but now we have to send a clear message to the Senators why they must pass Bill C-10B, without their changes, before November, when Parliament will most likely be officially dissolved after the liberal leadership race is over. Animals are abused across Canada every day...we need to make sure that we have strong legislation to punish their abusers now!
The International Fund for Animal Welfare wants to show the Senators exactly why 80% of Canadians want this bill passed without change...our pets. This year for Animal Action Week (October 4th - 11th, 2003) - let your pet take action for all abused and abandoned animals by sending us a photo of your beloved pet with the phrase PASS BILL C-10B WITHOUT CHANGE
written on it and your signature. We will gather them all up - from supporters across the country and deliver them to the Senate. It will deliver a simple but powerful message of how important this Bill is to Canadians.
You can send your photos to 612 - 1 Nicholas Street, Ottawa, ON K1N 7B7 or
digitally to bcartwright@ifaw.org . Please be sure that the photo is sized under 200KB. If you want to see more about this idea visit www.ifaw.ca . Thank you for continued support...together we can make a difference for abused animals across Canada. Barbara Cartwright. Animal Action Week
Co-ordinator (International Fund for Animal Welfare)"
PART 2: "KRISTA'S LAW"
I hadn't heard of Krista until now, but the case is appalling. The following is from the International Fund for Animal Welfare site, at:
http://www.ifaw.org/ifaw/general/default.aspx?oid=12368
(WARNING! This page contains a graphic picture of Krista about 1/3 of the way down the page, but also a link to the petition)
"In late November 2002, Canadians were shocked to learn about the abuse of "Krista", a six-week-old kitten who was doused with gasoline, set ablaze, and thrown from a moving car in Richmond Hill, Ontario, where she was left for dead.
We were united in our outrage. But even as this tragic act was taking place, Canada’s Senate was stalling progress on the animal cruelty provisions of Bill C-10b (now called "Krista's Law"), which would provide much needed stronger penalties for those convicted under the Criminal Code. At present, Canada’s federal cruelty laws date back to 1892.
Krista's Law, which addresses reforms to Canada’s animal-cruelty laws and the Firearms Act, passed Third Reading in the House of Commons, but on 21 November 2002, in a bizarre and unprecedented move, Senators split the bill ... effectively stalling passage of animal protection measures and ignoring the wishes of more than 80 percent of Canadians who consistently say they support tougher penalties for acts of animal cruelty."
PART 3: WHAT IS BILL C-10b?
The contents of the bill can be found at:
http://anticruelty.ca/bill2.html
PART 4: WHAT CAN BE DONE ABOUT IT?
Two things that I can think of.
1) Send a photo of your pet to 612 - 1 Nicholas Street, Ottawa, ON K1N 7B7 with the phrase PASS BILL C-10B WITHOUT CHANGE written on it and your signature. Or
digitally to bcartwright@ifaw.org -- please be sure that the photo is sized under 200KB.
2) Sign the online petition at:
http://www.ifaw.org/ifaw/general/default.aspx?oid=71235
As a civilized society, it is our responsibility to protect those who cannot protect themselves. While the large-scale slaughter of food animals is a necessity given that many of us live in cities where we cannot raise our own livestock, the torture and killing of a companion animal is a heinous and cowardly act. It deserves far stricter penalties than are currently on the books.
(Side note: down in the states, a DA and his team found a clever way to prosecute two idiots who had set a dog on fire... while the penalty for cruelty to animals was a joke, the penalties for ARSON were not... they went with arson and made it stick, and the criminals were put away for a good long time. Sometimes the system works. ;-))
PART 1: HOW I FOUND OUT...
I just got wind of this in an email from the Winnipeg Humane Society:
"IFAW WANTS A PHOTO OF YOUR PET TO TAKE TO PARLIAMENT
As you may or may not know, the Senate wants to make changes to Bill C-10B that will weaken the bill so significantly that it would be better to not have it pass at all. Currently the House of Commons is preparing to send Bill C-10B back to the Senate without accepting their changes. This is good news for the animals but now we have to send a clear message to the Senators why they must pass Bill C-10B, without their changes, before November, when Parliament will most likely be officially dissolved after the liberal leadership race is over. Animals are abused across Canada every day...we need to make sure that we have strong legislation to punish their abusers now!
The International Fund for Animal Welfare wants to show the Senators exactly why 80% of Canadians want this bill passed without change...our pets. This year for Animal Action Week (October 4th - 11th, 2003) - let your pet take action for all abused and abandoned animals by sending us a photo of your beloved pet with the phrase PASS BILL C-10B WITHOUT CHANGE
written on it and your signature. We will gather them all up - from supporters across the country and deliver them to the Senate. It will deliver a simple but powerful message of how important this Bill is to Canadians.
You can send your photos to 612 - 1 Nicholas Street, Ottawa, ON K1N 7B7 or
digitally to bcartwright@ifaw.org . Please be sure that the photo is sized under 200KB. If you want to see more about this idea visit www.ifaw.ca . Thank you for continued support...together we can make a difference for abused animals across Canada. Barbara Cartwright. Animal Action Week
Co-ordinator (International Fund for Animal Welfare)"
PART 2: "KRISTA'S LAW"
I hadn't heard of Krista until now, but the case is appalling. The following is from the International Fund for Animal Welfare site, at:
http://www.ifaw.org/ifaw/general/default.aspx?oid=12368
(WARNING! This page contains a graphic picture of Krista about 1/3 of the way down the page, but also a link to the petition)
"In late November 2002, Canadians were shocked to learn about the abuse of "Krista", a six-week-old kitten who was doused with gasoline, set ablaze, and thrown from a moving car in Richmond Hill, Ontario, where she was left for dead.
We were united in our outrage. But even as this tragic act was taking place, Canada’s Senate was stalling progress on the animal cruelty provisions of Bill C-10b (now called "Krista's Law"), which would provide much needed stronger penalties for those convicted under the Criminal Code. At present, Canada’s federal cruelty laws date back to 1892.
Krista's Law, which addresses reforms to Canada’s animal-cruelty laws and the Firearms Act, passed Third Reading in the House of Commons, but on 21 November 2002, in a bizarre and unprecedented move, Senators split the bill ... effectively stalling passage of animal protection measures and ignoring the wishes of more than 80 percent of Canadians who consistently say they support tougher penalties for acts of animal cruelty."
PART 3: WHAT IS BILL C-10b?
The contents of the bill can be found at:
http://anticruelty.ca/bill2.html
PART 4: WHAT CAN BE DONE ABOUT IT?
Two things that I can think of.
1) Send a photo of your pet to 612 - 1 Nicholas Street, Ottawa, ON K1N 7B7 with the phrase PASS BILL C-10B WITHOUT CHANGE written on it and your signature. Or
digitally to bcartwright@ifaw.org -- please be sure that the photo is sized under 200KB.
2) Sign the online petition at:
http://www.ifaw.org/ifaw/general/default.aspx?oid=71235
As a civilized society, it is our responsibility to protect those who cannot protect themselves. While the large-scale slaughter of food animals is a necessity given that many of us live in cities where we cannot raise our own livestock, the torture and killing of a companion animal is a heinous and cowardly act. It deserves far stricter penalties than are currently on the books.
(Side note: down in the states, a DA and his team found a clever way to prosecute two idiots who had set a dog on fire... while the penalty for cruelty to animals was a joke, the penalties for ARSON were not... they went with arson and made it stick, and the criminals were put away for a good long time. Sometimes the system works. ;-))
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-27 - 7:32 p.m.)
The Bill C-10b issue has got me leafing through my files... have you ever seen "A Prayer for Animals", by Albert Schweitzer? I particularly like it because it could apply to anyone, be they veterinarian, pet owner, or slaughterhouse worker:
"Hear our humble prayer, O God,
For our friends the animals,
Especially for animals who are suffering;
For any that are hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry;
For all that must be put to death.
"We entreat for them all Thy mercy and pity,
And for those who deal with them
We ask a heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words.
Make us, ourselves, to be true friends to animals
And so to share the blessings of the merciful."
The Bill C-10b issue has got me leafing through my files... have you ever seen "A Prayer for Animals", by Albert Schweitzer? I particularly like it because it could apply to anyone, be they veterinarian, pet owner, or slaughterhouse worker:
"Hear our humble prayer, O God,
For our friends the animals,
Especially for animals who are suffering;
For any that are hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry;
For all that must be put to death.
"We entreat for them all Thy mercy and pity,
And for those who deal with them
We ask a heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words.
Make us, ourselves, to be true friends to animals
And so to share the blessings of the merciful."
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-29 - 3:22 p.m.)
Let's talk about the surprise AI chat session I ended up taking part in last night, since MR and Ruby were both online at the same time. We'll also mention Megabyte and sex, not necessarily in that order.
Now, because I'm feeling lazy, I'm going to riff off of Matrix Refugee's latest diary entry, which you can see at
http://mtrxrefugee.diaryland.com/carping.html
since it makes such a good starting point for discussing the chat.
Before we get to the chat itself, I'd like to comment on a comment that MR made regarding the appearance and attractiveness of villains:
"Now honestly. The last thing I need is a cute, charming guy who turns out to be the villain. I like my villains to be a little less-than-good-looking (e.g., Cypher or "the Merovingian" in the "Matrix" series --even if I think the Mero. is hot). I mean, they scuzzed up Jude when he played Maguire in "Road to Perdition", and he was still sexy in a repulsive way. I don't mind head-screwing characters, but I really mind having my hormones screwed with in a negative way..."
Oddly enough, the only villain I find truly attractive is Megabyte from "Reboot", who could never be called handsome in the traditional sense (though he practically defines the term "hard body" in a stylish fusion of jaw-jutting robotic and broad-shouldered body builder). What gets me about Meggy is his *voice*, which is what 99% of the other Reboot fans I've talked to also find compelling -- he's voiced by Tony Jay (who also played a villain on the TV series "Beauty and the Beast), and one sentence of those dark, purring velvet tones turns me into a puddle of vanilla ice cream every time. *sigh, looks starry-eyed...*
Um, RP, right? Right! On to another form of robotics with "A.I."...
MR comments:
"Had a surprise chat session last night, picking up where we left off the other night because I got so tired. A little more of Hal and Joe getting cozy... Strange how I'm able to RP *that* better than Cecie and Joe. Must be the "good little Catholic girl" in me being inhibited over "sinful thoughts" (like Hal is innocent?!). Not that that's a bad thing in real life, it just gets in the way a little when I'm trying to RP."
*Scratches head, as again my little Pagan mind struggles to get itself around the "sex is bad" concept...*
"Sex is natural, sex is good", to quote George Michael, though I don't agree with his statement that "not everybody does it, but everybody should". For some people, celibacy is a valid and healthy choice.
MR has created two characters who are attracted to Joe, and is playing both of them wonderfully. However, since sex is at the root of both attractions, I can see how she's in a bind. And I can't play Joe much differently, because he IS a sex mecha and evoking that kind of response is exactly what he's made to do. He keeps giving off cues that invite all interested parties to come and play with him (he's been described as a "Super Toy for adults", and that's pretty darn accurate).
I give MR maximum points for courage and ingenuity in handling Cecie and Hal. All I can do is keep an eye on the interactions and keep my ears open for when MR hits the "squick zone", and then step away from the scene with my hands in the air. ;-) The great thing is that all characters in the AI RP have such strong aspects overall that we can wander in just about any direction, exploring the themes of lust, love, courage, devotion, reluctance, fear, and so many other realms of the human condition, and it's all good. Very good.
As for inhibitions, I agree they're not bad things, unless they make a person miserable and do not come from deep inner convictions. As far as I'm concerned it's up to each person what they can and can't handle. If someone enjoys sex and sensuality, and seeks those experiences in a way that doesn't create imbalances in their life and with "harm to none", I have no problem with that -- as far as I'm concerned, sexual pleasure is a gift of the Deities and the joy of sexuality can be a holy thing, celebrating the eternal dance of passion between the God and the Goddess in every human being. But like anything else, when it's pursued to excess it becomes unhealthy. How much constitutes "to excess" varies from person to person.
We chatted until much too late, and then MR had to leave us (missing an excellent scene with Ruby's characters, but I'll be posting that to the AI RP mailing list, so she'll see it later tonight):
"I had to drop out before I passed out over my keyboard, but it was worth it: I'm feeling more like myself. Seems God sent me this to help me perk up. It sure did the trick! And I may have another session Wednesday night to finish up this one bit with Cecie and Joe (and a snoring Hal)."
I have to admit, this AI RP has been a wonderful thing in my life as well. It keeps me moving and thinking when at times I don't have much energy to do either, and it's a nice break getting into the headspace of other characters for a while.
Well, best start painting "Captain Canuck". Wednesday comes mighty early...
Let's talk about the surprise AI chat session I ended up taking part in last night, since MR and Ruby were both online at the same time. We'll also mention Megabyte and sex, not necessarily in that order.
Now, because I'm feeling lazy, I'm going to riff off of Matrix Refugee's latest diary entry, which you can see at
http://mtrxrefugee.diaryland.com/carping.html
since it makes such a good starting point for discussing the chat.
Before we get to the chat itself, I'd like to comment on a comment that MR made regarding the appearance and attractiveness of villains:
"Now honestly. The last thing I need is a cute, charming guy who turns out to be the villain. I like my villains to be a little less-than-good-looking (e.g., Cypher or "the Merovingian" in the "Matrix" series --even if I think the Mero. is hot). I mean, they scuzzed up Jude when he played Maguire in "Road to Perdition", and he was still sexy in a repulsive way. I don't mind head-screwing characters, but I really mind having my hormones screwed with in a negative way..."
Oddly enough, the only villain I find truly attractive is Megabyte from "Reboot", who could never be called handsome in the traditional sense (though he practically defines the term "hard body" in a stylish fusion of jaw-jutting robotic and broad-shouldered body builder). What gets me about Meggy is his *voice*, which is what 99% of the other Reboot fans I've talked to also find compelling -- he's voiced by Tony Jay (who also played a villain on the TV series "Beauty and the Beast), and one sentence of those dark, purring velvet tones turns me into a puddle of vanilla ice cream every time. *sigh, looks starry-eyed...*
Um, RP, right? Right! On to another form of robotics with "A.I."...
MR comments:
"Had a surprise chat session last night, picking up where we left off the other night because I got so tired. A little more of Hal and Joe getting cozy... Strange how I'm able to RP *that* better than Cecie and Joe. Must be the "good little Catholic girl" in me being inhibited over "sinful thoughts" (like Hal is innocent?!). Not that that's a bad thing in real life, it just gets in the way a little when I'm trying to RP."
*Scratches head, as again my little Pagan mind struggles to get itself around the "sex is bad" concept...*
"Sex is natural, sex is good", to quote George Michael, though I don't agree with his statement that "not everybody does it, but everybody should". For some people, celibacy is a valid and healthy choice.
MR has created two characters who are attracted to Joe, and is playing both of them wonderfully. However, since sex is at the root of both attractions, I can see how she's in a bind. And I can't play Joe much differently, because he IS a sex mecha and evoking that kind of response is exactly what he's made to do. He keeps giving off cues that invite all interested parties to come and play with him (he's been described as a "Super Toy for adults", and that's pretty darn accurate).
I give MR maximum points for courage and ingenuity in handling Cecie and Hal. All I can do is keep an eye on the interactions and keep my ears open for when MR hits the "squick zone", and then step away from the scene with my hands in the air. ;-) The great thing is that all characters in the AI RP have such strong aspects overall that we can wander in just about any direction, exploring the themes of lust, love, courage, devotion, reluctance, fear, and so many other realms of the human condition, and it's all good. Very good.
As for inhibitions, I agree they're not bad things, unless they make a person miserable and do not come from deep inner convictions. As far as I'm concerned it's up to each person what they can and can't handle. If someone enjoys sex and sensuality, and seeks those experiences in a way that doesn't create imbalances in their life and with "harm to none", I have no problem with that -- as far as I'm concerned, sexual pleasure is a gift of the Deities and the joy of sexuality can be a holy thing, celebrating the eternal dance of passion between the God and the Goddess in every human being. But like anything else, when it's pursued to excess it becomes unhealthy. How much constitutes "to excess" varies from person to person.
We chatted until much too late, and then MR had to leave us (missing an excellent scene with Ruby's characters, but I'll be posting that to the AI RP mailing list, so she'll see it later tonight):
"I had to drop out before I passed out over my keyboard, but it was worth it: I'm feeling more like myself. Seems God sent me this to help me perk up. It sure did the trick! And I may have another session Wednesday night to finish up this one bit with Cecie and Joe (and a snoring Hal)."
I have to admit, this AI RP has been a wonderful thing in my life as well. It keeps me moving and thinking when at times I don't have much energy to do either, and it's a nice break getting into the headspace of other characters for a while.
Well, best start painting "Captain Canuck". Wednesday comes mighty early...
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-10-01 - 12:09 a.m.)
I just got back from seeing "Lost in Translation" with my husband (a great movie, by the way, delightfully ambiguous on many levels, vertiginous, AND with a feeling of culture-shock that really captures what encountering alien artifacts and customs is like), and have paused to take stock of what the next couple of days hold:
1) "Captain Canuck"! Lots of Captain Canuck! 11 pages to finish ASAFP, and the futile spark of hope that says "yes, I CAN do them all tomorrow, and still be able to do the 4-11 shift at Ipsos-Reid on Thursday!" NOT! If I'm sane, I'll call in tomorrow to cancel my shift before the 24-hour magic deadline. (paint, paint, paint! paint, paint, paint! paint, paint, paint!)
2) Chat with MR tomorrow (this, Wednesday) evening, for the AI RP. Good stuff, and I'm gladly carving out a couple of hours for it. Am I addicted to RPing? Film at 11!
3) Samhain. Yes, that's technically at the end of October, but it's time to start thinking about the feast and the ritual. This will be Laurie's 7th Annual Samhain Ritual, so it's time to fire up the Laurie's Rituals group on Yahoo and begin making arrangements.
4) Paying the rent. Oh, lord, the rent. George and I are still playing financial catch-up from a comic contract that went desperately wrong early last year, and the rent will be a few days late. The agency has been generally very good about it, since we always pay the amount and late fees on it, but ethically it irks me at a deep and indelible level. It impinges on my sense of personal honor. I hate that. Who doesn't?
Well, maybe only four directions. Hey, things are looking up!
I just got back from seeing "Lost in Translation" with my husband (a great movie, by the way, delightfully ambiguous on many levels, vertiginous, AND with a feeling of culture-shock that really captures what encountering alien artifacts and customs is like), and have paused to take stock of what the next couple of days hold:
1) "Captain Canuck"! Lots of Captain Canuck! 11 pages to finish ASAFP, and the futile spark of hope that says "yes, I CAN do them all tomorrow, and still be able to do the 4-11 shift at Ipsos-Reid on Thursday!" NOT! If I'm sane, I'll call in tomorrow to cancel my shift before the 24-hour magic deadline. (paint, paint, paint! paint, paint, paint! paint, paint, paint!)
2) Chat with MR tomorrow (this, Wednesday) evening, for the AI RP. Good stuff, and I'm gladly carving out a couple of hours for it. Am I addicted to RPing? Film at 11!
3) Samhain. Yes, that's technically at the end of October, but it's time to start thinking about the feast and the ritual. This will be Laurie's 7th Annual Samhain Ritual, so it's time to fire up the Laurie's Rituals group on Yahoo and begin making arrangements.
4) Paying the rent. Oh, lord, the rent. George and I are still playing financial catch-up from a comic contract that went desperately wrong early last year, and the rent will be a few days late. The agency has been generally very good about it, since we always pay the amount and late fees on it, but ethically it irks me at a deep and indelible level. It impinges on my sense of personal honor. I hate that. Who doesn't?
Well, maybe only four directions. Hey, things are looking up!
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-10-02 - 10:54 p.m.)
Nothing great to report -- still working on "Captain Canuck", but now taking a break to lay flats on some pages for another colorist. The kicker is, I'm getting paid the same amount for the flats I'm laying as I am on the finishes for "CC". $40 per page is a horrible rate for finished pages, but it IS in support of Canadian comics, and the art is quite decent. Although the artist on "CC" has never done comics before, and it shows in the sameness of some of his compositions, it's actually not that bad.
Yesterday I got the comps (complimentary copies) on "Girl Genius" #9, though I had to pay $9 and change to get them since the person shipping them valued the package at full retail value -- d'oh! Since I'm not reselling them, it would have been fine to value the package of 10 comics at $5 (as opposed to $42). Repeat after me: "The GST sucks." :-P
They printed quite light, which has me curious. It looks like the printer dropped the overall saturation of the pages by about 15%. Even odder, page 1 printed at the right saturation levels, but every other page in the book took the hit... oh, the mysteries of printing.
If you're curious, you can check out "Girl Genius" at http://www.studiofoglio.com -- be sure to click on "Agatha Heterodyne and the Electric Coffin", which is the first 8-pager I colored for "GG" and is available to read on the net. Meanwhile, back to flatting!
Nothing great to report -- still working on "Captain Canuck", but now taking a break to lay flats on some pages for another colorist. The kicker is, I'm getting paid the same amount for the flats I'm laying as I am on the finishes for "CC". $40 per page is a horrible rate for finished pages, but it IS in support of Canadian comics, and the art is quite decent. Although the artist on "CC" has never done comics before, and it shows in the sameness of some of his compositions, it's actually not that bad.
Yesterday I got the comps (complimentary copies) on "Girl Genius" #9, though I had to pay $9 and change to get them since the person shipping them valued the package at full retail value -- d'oh! Since I'm not reselling them, it would have been fine to value the package of 10 comics at $5 (as opposed to $42). Repeat after me: "The GST sucks." :-P
They printed quite light, which has me curious. It looks like the printer dropped the overall saturation of the pages by about 15%. Even odder, page 1 printed at the right saturation levels, but every other page in the book took the hit... oh, the mysteries of printing.
If you're curious, you can check out "Girl Genius" at http://www.studiofoglio.com -- be sure to click on "Agatha Heterodyne and the Electric Coffin", which is the first 8-pager I colored for "GG" and is available to read on the net. Meanwhile, back to flatting!
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-10-11 - 11:34 p.m.)
Immensely tired and immensely depressed.
My brother-in-law came to stay with us almost a week ago (long story, maybe some other time, but suffice to say he's an alcoholic n'er-do-well), and his constant proximity is setting off every internal alarm I've got.
That's all for today.
Immensely tired and immensely depressed.
My brother-in-law came to stay with us almost a week ago (long story, maybe some other time, but suffice to say he's an alcoholic n'er-do-well), and his constant proximity is setting off every internal alarm I've got.
That's all for today.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-10-12 - 11:20 p.m.)
This is full of despair, so don't read any further if you don't want to deal with that. I'll give some space so nothing comes up until you scroll down.
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I am hollow, a brittle layer with only blackness inside. I am in pain, but it is wrong for me to be in pain. I have no source of comfort. I have no right to ask, and even if I did, nothing would help.
Today I went out to coffee with a couple of friends who just became boyfriend and girlfriend, entirely as a result of my introducing them since they were from two completely different social groups. They knew that I've been having some bad days, and I warned them that I might want to talk about what's troubling me. Well, they couldn't stop talking about how wonderful their life is/how much they like the new appliances they bought for their house/what the kids are doing long enough to let me get a word in edgewise. Even when tears came into my eyes, their only question was "Would you like to go to the car"? As if my presence embarassed them...
Well, that's not quite accurate. At one point, how miserable I was must have penetrated, because one of them asked: "Are you all right?"
"No," I said quietly.
And they went back to talking about their wonderful lives. Somehow, that's even worse.
I'm sick and tired of living. I can't fight the pain any more. My brother-in-law's continued presence is intensely distressing to me, but of course there's no place else he can go... my friends don't give a damn that I'm suffering, and find appliances more important (even if I survive the next couple of days, I'll probably never hear from them again)... my back as been broken as far as work at Ipsos-Reid goes (I ended up cancelling or leaving early from my last three shifts, which I'm sure they're not going to tolerate, from panic attacks brought on my my home situation and the "bitch" incident from a respondant a few weeks ago, which is finally starting to hit me).
I'm exhausted. And since I doubt anyone reads this weblog anyway, what I say here doesn't matter. But typing it out helps me get it straight in my head.
Even typing it in here has a terrible consequence if anyone does read it -- they'll turn their backs on me and try to get as far away from me as possible. I'll lose everything I've worked so hard for in the last several months. People don't want to look at despair and death, even if it's over someone else's shoulder.
So I'm tossing everything away, leaving myself free and clear to jump. This might be my last entry.
This is full of despair, so don't read any further if you don't want to deal with that. I'll give some space so nothing comes up until you scroll down.
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I am hollow, a brittle layer with only blackness inside. I am in pain, but it is wrong for me to be in pain. I have no source of comfort. I have no right to ask, and even if I did, nothing would help.
Today I went out to coffee with a couple of friends who just became boyfriend and girlfriend, entirely as a result of my introducing them since they were from two completely different social groups. They knew that I've been having some bad days, and I warned them that I might want to talk about what's troubling me. Well, they couldn't stop talking about how wonderful their life is/how much they like the new appliances they bought for their house/what the kids are doing long enough to let me get a word in edgewise. Even when tears came into my eyes, their only question was "Would you like to go to the car"? As if my presence embarassed them...
Well, that's not quite accurate. At one point, how miserable I was must have penetrated, because one of them asked: "Are you all right?"
"No," I said quietly.
And they went back to talking about their wonderful lives. Somehow, that's even worse.
I'm sick and tired of living. I can't fight the pain any more. My brother-in-law's continued presence is intensely distressing to me, but of course there's no place else he can go... my friends don't give a damn that I'm suffering, and find appliances more important (even if I survive the next couple of days, I'll probably never hear from them again)... my back as been broken as far as work at Ipsos-Reid goes (I ended up cancelling or leaving early from my last three shifts, which I'm sure they're not going to tolerate, from panic attacks brought on my my home situation and the "bitch" incident from a respondant a few weeks ago, which is finally starting to hit me).
I'm exhausted. And since I doubt anyone reads this weblog anyway, what I say here doesn't matter. But typing it out helps me get it straight in my head.
Even typing it in here has a terrible consequence if anyone does read it -- they'll turn their backs on me and try to get as far away from me as possible. I'll lose everything I've worked so hard for in the last several months. People don't want to look at despair and death, even if it's over someone else's shoulder.
So I'm tossing everything away, leaving myself free and clear to jump. This might be my last entry.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-10-21 - 1:13 a.m.)
Just picked this up off Yahoo!, at
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=571&ncid=751&e=1&u=/nm/20031020/hl_nm/health_sexuality_brain_dc
It makes sense to me, based on what I know about both human physiology and human behavior. I sure didn't choose to be bisexual (though, as someone once remarked, it DOES double my chances of finding a date on a Saturday night) -- and most, if not all, of the gay people I've talked to never felt they had a choice (I mean, come on, who would CHOOSE to be a member of a community that gets so much crap thrown at it... check http://www.godhatesfags.com for a particularly loathsome piece of anti-gay propaganda... but please, only visit it once -- no reason to give them the hits).
Funny... nobody ever accuses heterosexuals of making a choice, or living "the heterosexual lifestyle"... that's something to think about, isn't it?
And now, our feature presentation...
*****************************
Sexual Identity Hard-Wired by Genetics, Study Says (Mon Oct 20, 8:47 AM ET)
LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Sexual identity is wired into the genes, which discounts the concept that homosexuality and transgender sexuality are a choice, California researchers reported on Monday.
"Our findings may help answer an important question -- why do we feel male or female?" Dr. Eric Vilain, a genetics professor at the University of California, Los Angeles School of Medicine, said in a statement. "Sexual identity is rooted in every person's biology before birth and springs from a variation in our individual genome."
His team has identified 54 genes in mice that may explain why male and female brains look and function differently.
Since the 1970s, scientists have believed that estrogen and testosterone were wholly responsible for sexually organizing the brain. Recent evidence, however, indicates that hormones cannot explain everything about the sexual differences between male and female brains.
Published in the latest edition of the journal Molecular Brain Research, the UCLA discovery may also offer physicians an improved tool for gender assignment of babies born with ambiguous genitalia.
Mild cases of malformed genitalia occur in 1 percent of all births -- about 3 million cases. More severe cases -- where doctors can't inform parents whether they had a boy or girl -- occur in one in 3,000 births.
"If physicians could predict the gender of newborns with ambiguous genitalia at birth, we would make less mistakes in gender assignment," Vilain said.
Using two genetic testing methods, the researchers compared the production of genes in male and female brains in embryonic mice -- long before the animals developed sex organs.
They found 54 genes produced in different amounts in male and female mouse brains, prior to hormonal influence. Eighteen of the genes were produced at higher levels in the male brains; 36 were produced at higher levels in the female brains.
"We discovered that the male and female brains differed in many measurable ways, including anatomy and function." Vilain said.
For example, the two hemispheres of the brain appeared more symmetrical in females than in males. According to Vilain, the symmetry may improve communication between both sides of the brain, leading to enhanced verbal expressiveness in females.
"This anatomical difference may explain why women can sometimes articulate their feelings more easily than men," he said.
The scientists plan to conduct further studies to determine the specific role for each of the 54 genes they identified.
"Our findings may explain why we feel male or female, regardless of our actual anatomy," said Vilain. "These discoveries lend credence to the idea that being transgender --- feeling that one has been born into the body of the wrong sex -- is a state of mind.
Just picked this up off Yahoo!, at
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=571&ncid=751&e=1&u=/nm/20031020/hl_nm/health_sexuality_brain_dc
It makes sense to me, based on what I know about both human physiology and human behavior. I sure didn't choose to be bisexual (though, as someone once remarked, it DOES double my chances of finding a date on a Saturday night) -- and most, if not all, of the gay people I've talked to never felt they had a choice (I mean, come on, who would CHOOSE to be a member of a community that gets so much crap thrown at it... check http://www.godhatesfags.com for a particularly loathsome piece of anti-gay propaganda... but please, only visit it once -- no reason to give them the hits).
Funny... nobody ever accuses heterosexuals of making a choice, or living "the heterosexual lifestyle"... that's something to think about, isn't it?
And now, our feature presentation...
*****************************
Sexual Identity Hard-Wired by Genetics, Study Says (Mon Oct 20, 8:47 AM ET)
LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Sexual identity is wired into the genes, which discounts the concept that homosexuality and transgender sexuality are a choice, California researchers reported on Monday.
"Our findings may help answer an important question -- why do we feel male or female?" Dr. Eric Vilain, a genetics professor at the University of California, Los Angeles School of Medicine, said in a statement. "Sexual identity is rooted in every person's biology before birth and springs from a variation in our individual genome."
His team has identified 54 genes in mice that may explain why male and female brains look and function differently.
Since the 1970s, scientists have believed that estrogen and testosterone were wholly responsible for sexually organizing the brain. Recent evidence, however, indicates that hormones cannot explain everything about the sexual differences between male and female brains.
Published in the latest edition of the journal Molecular Brain Research, the UCLA discovery may also offer physicians an improved tool for gender assignment of babies born with ambiguous genitalia.
Mild cases of malformed genitalia occur in 1 percent of all births -- about 3 million cases. More severe cases -- where doctors can't inform parents whether they had a boy or girl -- occur in one in 3,000 births.
"If physicians could predict the gender of newborns with ambiguous genitalia at birth, we would make less mistakes in gender assignment," Vilain said.
Using two genetic testing methods, the researchers compared the production of genes in male and female brains in embryonic mice -- long before the animals developed sex organs.
They found 54 genes produced in different amounts in male and female mouse brains, prior to hormonal influence. Eighteen of the genes were produced at higher levels in the male brains; 36 were produced at higher levels in the female brains.
"We discovered that the male and female brains differed in many measurable ways, including anatomy and function." Vilain said.
For example, the two hemispheres of the brain appeared more symmetrical in females than in males. According to Vilain, the symmetry may improve communication between both sides of the brain, leading to enhanced verbal expressiveness in females.
"This anatomical difference may explain why women can sometimes articulate their feelings more easily than men," he said.
The scientists plan to conduct further studies to determine the specific role for each of the 54 genes they identified.
"Our findings may explain why we feel male or female, regardless of our actual anatomy," said Vilain. "These discoveries lend credence to the idea that being transgender --- feeling that one has been born into the body of the wrong sex -- is a state of mind.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-10-16 2:51 p.m.)
I picked up the link from Hal and MR's diaries, and thought I'd try it out...
I picked up the link from Hal and MR's diaries, and thought I'd try it out...
You are Form 5, Dragon: The Weaver.
"And The Dragon seperated the virtuous from
the sinful. He tore his eyes from his sockets
and used them to peer into the souls of those
on trial to make a judgement. He knew that
with endless knowledge came endless
responsibility."
Some examples of the Dragon Form are Athena
(Greek), St. Peter (Christian), and Surya
(Indian).
The Dragon is associated with the concept of
intelligence, the number 5, and the element of
wood.
His sign is the crescent moon.
As a member of Form 5, you are an intelligent and
wise individual. You weigh options by looking
at how logical they are and you know that while
there may not always be a right or wrong
choice, there is always a logical one. People
may say you are too indecisive, but it's only
because you want to do what's right. Dragons
are the best friends to have because they're
willing to learn.
Which Mythological Form Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
And some other Quizilla quizes...
Morpheus
?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla
You are The Oracle, from "The Matrix."
Wise, kind, honest- is there anything slightly
negative about you? You are genuinely
supportive of others. Careful not to let people
take advantage of you, though.
What Matrix Persona Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
And as a long-time Dragonriders of Pern fan, I couldn't resist this one...
You are a bronze dragon! You are the biggest of
the males, and generally you are the only one
who gets to mate with the queen. You are an
excellent leader. Your human partner is likely
to be a Wingleader or even Weyrleader, the
person in charge of the entire Weyr, and you
are the mate of the senior queen. You are
respected by the lower colors, and if you are
the Weyrleader's dragon you are always obeyed,
unless the queen contradicts you. Since queens
are relatively uncommon, you are widely
considered by humans the best dragon to be
paired with.
What color of Pernese dragon are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
And from one of my favorite animes...
Woo. You're Faye. Sexy AND smart. You seem
heartless and cold, but chance circumstances
reveal your tender, vulnerable self.
!-Which Cowboy Bebop Character are you?-!
brought to you by Quizilla
You are an Angel! You love to guide Humans and lead
them on the path of ritousness and you love
white and peach. You dislike (you are to
heavenly to hate) Demons and you love being
around others. You love big cities because they
make you feel like you're not the only one out
there and you want to protect them.
(Pictures in results)What Mythical Being are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are the time godess! A time godess, by a
legend, is never tired, she never sleeps or
eats, but she loves animals and life. She never
dies because she is trapped in time, forcing
her to live forever. She is, much like you,
very brave and gentle, and she knows how to use
beauty to get what she wants. These traits make
you an extraordinary person.
(results contain pictures)what IMMORTAL night creature are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
More in the next post! (man, this is addictive!)
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-10-16 3:50 p.m.)Quizilla "Roleplaying" Quiz Results for yours truly...
You are a true friend. You play D&D because it is a
social game and you like the people you play
with. Henceforth, were the game to end you
wouldn't apply to play in a stranger's
advertised game, and when one of the players
leaves you feel the void. You create
characters that are compliments to your
friends' characters, and you are always there
to back them up in a fight. You'll do well
with this attitude. After all, the point of D&D
is fun, so have fun with the people you like.
What Kind of RolePlayer Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are a mutant! You eat just like a human does
and you drink tap water or soda or other human
drinks. You use your mutant powers to help your
friends and hurt your enemies. Just be
careful....
What kind of roleplaying creature are you? (w/pictures)(FOR GIRLS)
brought to you by Quizilla
You're a D&Der! You took this quiz because it
mentioned roleplaying, but became hopelessly
lost after the first two questions.
What Stereotypical Roleplayer Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are a phychic: you are very sly, and cunning.
Very intellegent.. You can usually predict what
people are going todo next, and always ask
questions. You jave a deefferent side to you, a
mean carekess side.. You don't have a true
friend. and the ones you have now, you are
using them. Behind peoples backs you right
dreadful things a bout them. You can be a bit
nice, and when you promise people, you never
break it.
What roleplaying Creature Are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are the Tragedian! Your characters often harbor
dark secrets, impassioned vendettas, or
heartwrenching pasts. This doesn't
(neccessarily) mean you're evil or unfriendly,
but your characters often tend to be dark and
broody. You favor vampires and similar
character types who promote inner conflict.
Though often interesting, be careful. If not
played VERY carefully, a pathos-wrought
character can get boring very quickly.
What Roleplaying Character Archetype Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
***********
Pointless? Yes, but also fun. =^_^=
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-10-24 - 1:41 a.m.)
Work, work, work... Captain Canuck... Ipsos-Reid... sleep, eat, work...
So, to fill the diary interval, I've pulled out an old favorite standard of mine. It pretty much sums up the responsible-for-your-own-progress attitude that I love about Paganism, and is a riff on the old Christian standard, "Footprints in the Sand".
*********
"Buttprints in the Sand"
by Ray Brumback (tweaked by yours truly)
One night I had a wondrous dream,
One set of footprints there was seen:
The Goddess's footprints they were,
But mine were not along the shore.
And when some stranger prints appeared.
I asked Her, "What do have we here?
These prints are large and round and neat,
But much too big to be from feet."
"My child," She said in somber tones,
"For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith,
But you refused and made Me wait."
"You would not learn, you would not grow,
The walk of faith, you would not know,
So I got tired, I got fed up --
And there I dropped you on your butt.
"Because in life, there comes a time
When one must fight, and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand,
Or leave their butt prints in the sand."
Work, work, work... Captain Canuck... Ipsos-Reid... sleep, eat, work...
So, to fill the diary interval, I've pulled out an old favorite standard of mine. It pretty much sums up the responsible-for-your-own-progress attitude that I love about Paganism, and is a riff on the old Christian standard, "Footprints in the Sand".
*********
"Buttprints in the Sand"
by Ray Brumback (tweaked by yours truly)
One night I had a wondrous dream,
One set of footprints there was seen:
The Goddess's footprints they were,
But mine were not along the shore.
And when some stranger prints appeared.
I asked Her, "What do have we here?
These prints are large and round and neat,
But much too big to be from feet."
"My child," She said in somber tones,
"For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith,
But you refused and made Me wait."
"You would not learn, you would not grow,
The walk of faith, you would not know,
So I got tired, I got fed up --
And there I dropped you on your butt.
"Because in life, there comes a time
When one must fight, and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand,
Or leave their butt prints in the sand."
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-10-27 - 8:19 p.m.)
Three days is too long to go without an entry! But it's been a busy time.
On Saturday night, I attended a Samhain ritual by a member of the New Moon group here in Winnipeg, a Wiccan devotional group that meets at the dark of the moon. This is a time of year to reflect upon the endings of things, and upon change, so we chose to celebrate the myth of Persephone, who was kidnapped by Hades and taken to the underworld to be his queen... her mother Demeter looked for her, but did not find her in the underworld until she had eaten of a pomegranate offered to her by Hades -- and having eaten food from the underworld, she was bound to it forever.
Demeter was a powerful Goddess, and in her grief over her daughter's disappearance she had withheld her gifts of fertility from the Earth, leaving desolation. Hades struck a bargain with her: Persephone had only eaten three seeds from the pomegranate, so she would spend three months of the year in the underworld with her husband, and the rest in the upper world with her mother.
Obviously this is a myth to explain the existence of winter, but in the context of the ritual it became a metaphor for leaving one stage of life and beginning another. The High Priestess cut open a pomegranate on the altar with her ritual knife, and each person in the circle took three seeds to eat -- one for our ancestors, one for our present, and one for the future which we must change in order to achieve. We spoke of our beloved dead and our hopes for the future.
There were a two people in the circle of nine who I'd never worked with before, but we went well together as a mix. I'm discovering the advantages of conducting monthly worship with a familiar group of fellow Wiccans -- we know each other's strengths, and having a shared liturgy lends the words power with repetition and reinforcement.
This coming Saturday I'll be running my own private, invitational Samhain rite for the seventh year in a row. So far there are seven people coming, one of whom is bringing a bottle of mead (mmmmm, mead! honey wine!) to go with the traditional pork roast feast. But more about that when the time comes...
Three days is too long to go without an entry! But it's been a busy time.
On Saturday night, I attended a Samhain ritual by a member of the New Moon group here in Winnipeg, a Wiccan devotional group that meets at the dark of the moon. This is a time of year to reflect upon the endings of things, and upon change, so we chose to celebrate the myth of Persephone, who was kidnapped by Hades and taken to the underworld to be his queen... her mother Demeter looked for her, but did not find her in the underworld until she had eaten of a pomegranate offered to her by Hades -- and having eaten food from the underworld, she was bound to it forever.
Demeter was a powerful Goddess, and in her grief over her daughter's disappearance she had withheld her gifts of fertility from the Earth, leaving desolation. Hades struck a bargain with her: Persephone had only eaten three seeds from the pomegranate, so she would spend three months of the year in the underworld with her husband, and the rest in the upper world with her mother.
Obviously this is a myth to explain the existence of winter, but in the context of the ritual it became a metaphor for leaving one stage of life and beginning another. The High Priestess cut open a pomegranate on the altar with her ritual knife, and each person in the circle took three seeds to eat -- one for our ancestors, one for our present, and one for the future which we must change in order to achieve. We spoke of our beloved dead and our hopes for the future.
There were a two people in the circle of nine who I'd never worked with before, but we went well together as a mix. I'm discovering the advantages of conducting monthly worship with a familiar group of fellow Wiccans -- we know each other's strengths, and having a shared liturgy lends the words power with repetition and reinforcement.
This coming Saturday I'll be running my own private, invitational Samhain rite for the seventh year in a row. So far there are seven people coming, one of whom is bringing a bottle of mead (mmmmm, mead! honey wine!) to go with the traditional pork roast feast. But more about that when the time comes...
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-11-03 - 12:09 a.m.)
Ohhhhh, my head... I feel like I've been run over by a truck! I got a little too much incense smoke at last night's Samhain ritual, and my lungs and sinuses are protesting mightily. It might also have something to do with the wonderful glass of mead (ie, honey wine) that I took with the feast afterwards; I've never been able to drink any significant quantity of alcohol without paying for it the morning after.
For the last seven Laurie's Annual Samhain Rituals, we've gone around the circle remembering our dead and offering each a pinch of an incense blend (frankincense, myrrh, and rose petals) which is burned on a charcoal in a cauldron at the center of the altar, carrying the sweet smell and good wishes to the spirits... next year, to avoid this kind of hangover, I'm considering a completely different approach.
Instead of a charcoal and incense, a "fondue for the dead" would take place -- a small cauldron/pot/glass sphere of water, placed over a heat source on the altar so that the water is always steaming (since the visual effect of the rising smoke is part of the impression that the wishes are going to the spirit realm).
When someone recalls a lost loved one, they would select, from a plate on the altar, a small piece of food (on offer would be meat, cheese, bread, candy, etc). Then they would place the food into the vessel of water, offering the tasty savor of the sacrifice to the person/animal they were remembering. After the ritual, the "remembrance soup" would be taken outside and ceremonially poured upon the earth, leaving the bits of food to be consumed by animals and birds.
As sentimentally attached as I am to the beauty of the incense offerings, both visually and in the sweetness of the smell, it might be time for a change. One thing I enjoy about Wicca is that it allows me to experiment with ways to approach the Divine -- Who might, incidentally, actually be quite fond of cheddar cheese or roast pork ;-)
Ohhhhh, my head... I feel like I've been run over by a truck! I got a little too much incense smoke at last night's Samhain ritual, and my lungs and sinuses are protesting mightily. It might also have something to do with the wonderful glass of mead (ie, honey wine) that I took with the feast afterwards; I've never been able to drink any significant quantity of alcohol without paying for it the morning after.
For the last seven Laurie's Annual Samhain Rituals, we've gone around the circle remembering our dead and offering each a pinch of an incense blend (frankincense, myrrh, and rose petals) which is burned on a charcoal in a cauldron at the center of the altar, carrying the sweet smell and good wishes to the spirits... next year, to avoid this kind of hangover, I'm considering a completely different approach.
Instead of a charcoal and incense, a "fondue for the dead" would take place -- a small cauldron/pot/glass sphere of water, placed over a heat source on the altar so that the water is always steaming (since the visual effect of the rising smoke is part of the impression that the wishes are going to the spirit realm).
When someone recalls a lost loved one, they would select, from a plate on the altar, a small piece of food (on offer would be meat, cheese, bread, candy, etc). Then they would place the food into the vessel of water, offering the tasty savor of the sacrifice to the person/animal they were remembering. After the ritual, the "remembrance soup" would be taken outside and ceremonially poured upon the earth, leaving the bits of food to be consumed by animals and birds.
As sentimentally attached as I am to the beauty of the incense offerings, both visually and in the sweetness of the smell, it might be time for a change. One thing I enjoy about Wicca is that it allows me to experiment with ways to approach the Divine -- Who might, incidentally, actually be quite fond of cheddar cheese or roast pork ;-)
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-11-07 - 12:27 a.m.)
Oh, here we go... one week (more or less, my cycles have been increasingly irregular this last year or so) until menstruation, and the hormones are playing me like a violin. I've been so stressed that I can't work effectively, which is running me up against a project deadline, which produces even MORE stress -- that, plus the lingering effects of the incense at Samhain, and I'm in a GREAT mood.
I'm not sure how many more times I can stand this hormonal roller coaster. My doctor has been out with the flu; as soon as he gets back, I'm going to talk seriously with him about Premenstrual Dysmorphic Disorder treatments.
Oh, here we go... one week (more or less, my cycles have been increasingly irregular this last year or so) until menstruation, and the hormones are playing me like a violin. I've been so stressed that I can't work effectively, which is running me up against a project deadline, which produces even MORE stress -- that, plus the lingering effects of the incense at Samhain, and I'm in a GREAT mood.
I'm not sure how many more times I can stand this hormonal roller coaster. My doctor has been out with the flu; as soon as he gets back, I'm going to talk seriously with him about Premenstrual Dysmorphic Disorder treatments.
(originally posted to Diaryland, 2003-11-10 - 5:16 p.m.)
Part 1: Despair and Hormones
Two days and counting to menstruation... I hope!
Had an impromptu chat session with MR last night in the AI RP PHUN thread " of the Future"... it helped me feel a bit better by taking my mind off of my own interior landscape for a couple of hours. Still, afterwards I was wracked with doubt: did I play well? God, I must have sucked... I suck at everything... I'm doing it all wrong... I'd be better off just packing up and leaving the game, and so would everyone else...
Bleh. Intellectually, I know it's only hormones, with a sucker-punch by the infection I'm taking antibiotics for. But in my heart, that's no help whatsoever -- I'm still down for the count.
I cried for about an hour last night (those slow, steady tears that come when you're lying in bed in the dark), which helped a little bit. It's only in the last three or so years that I've been able to give myself permission to cry as a means of releasing tension and pain, and it took a DBT course to teach it to me: take deep breaths, making them shudder, and the body's natural urge to weep will be allowed to flow.
Part 1: Roleplaying as Healing Psychodrama
Oddly enough, I'm finding that Joe's situation in the AI RP PHUN thread is providing a safe way to "externalize" some of the emotions that I find it almost impossible to approach otherwise. Although my take on his character today will probably change once the hormone flux is over, for the moment I find his own less-than-positive thoughts oddly cathartic.
Caught between three Orga addressing each other in various configurations of desire and frustration (Cecie, Frank, and Hal), Joe is aware that there will probably be no real place for him in the final analysis. He is not a unique individual: he is a JO-E27453. There were seventy-five thousand units in his production run, and even now, twenty years after the fact, there are still hundreds of Mecha out there identical to him in every respect -- not to mention all the younger models who are designed to do his job better.
Cecie says that she loves him, but as far as Joe is concerned she loves what he does for her, and what she THINKS he is -- not what he actually is, which she seems incapable of accepting. Hal, who does not love him, understands him, and therefore cannot hold him as a being of any real worth (he IS a Mecha, with all the traits listed in the previous paragraph). And Frank sees him as an obstacle in his rather gentle pursuit of Cecie, and would probably be happy if Joe disappeared from the equation altogether.
Just last night (game time), Joe had a flash of oracular insight that suggested to him that he might not "live" to see Cecie again, or go to Rennes with Hal. From his current point of view, that would not necessarily be a bad thing. (And regardless of how much the hormones are influencing my present understanding of Joe's inner world, I'd engineered a certain amount of world-weariness into his future character from the start, so that much will remain.)
Part 3: My Mantra
I just have to get through the next few days, hour by hour, minute by minute. Break things down into smaller and smaller tasks until they become something I can handle. Take cough and cold remedies -- and remember to breathe.
Part 1: Despair and Hormones
Two days and counting to menstruation... I hope!
Had an impromptu chat session with MR last night in the AI RP PHUN thread " of the Future"... it helped me feel a bit better by taking my mind off of my own interior landscape for a couple of hours. Still, afterwards I was wracked with doubt: did I play well? God, I must have sucked... I suck at everything... I'm doing it all wrong... I'd be better off just packing up and leaving the game, and so would everyone else...
Bleh. Intellectually, I know it's only hormones, with a sucker-punch by the infection I'm taking antibiotics for. But in my heart, that's no help whatsoever -- I'm still down for the count.
I cried for about an hour last night (those slow, steady tears that come when you're lying in bed in the dark), which helped a little bit. It's only in the last three or so years that I've been able to give myself permission to cry as a means of releasing tension and pain, and it took a DBT course to teach it to me: take deep breaths, making them shudder, and the body's natural urge to weep will be allowed to flow.
Part 1: Roleplaying as Healing Psychodrama
Oddly enough, I'm finding that Joe's situation in the AI RP PHUN thread is providing a safe way to "externalize" some of the emotions that I find it almost impossible to approach otherwise. Although my take on his character today will probably change once the hormone flux is over, for the moment I find his own less-than-positive thoughts oddly cathartic.
Caught between three Orga addressing each other in various configurations of desire and frustration (Cecie, Frank, and Hal), Joe is aware that there will probably be no real place for him in the final analysis. He is not a unique individual: he is a JO-E27453. There were seventy-five thousand units in his production run, and even now, twenty years after the fact, there are still hundreds of Mecha out there identical to him in every respect -- not to mention all the younger models who are designed to do his job better.
Cecie says that she loves him, but as far as Joe is concerned she loves what he does for her, and what she THINKS he is -- not what he actually is, which she seems incapable of accepting. Hal, who does not love him, understands him, and therefore cannot hold him as a being of any real worth (he IS a Mecha, with all the traits listed in the previous paragraph). And Frank sees him as an obstacle in his rather gentle pursuit of Cecie, and would probably be happy if Joe disappeared from the equation altogether.
Just last night (game time), Joe had a flash of oracular insight that suggested to him that he might not "live" to see Cecie again, or go to Rennes with Hal. From his current point of view, that would not necessarily be a bad thing. (And regardless of how much the hormones are influencing my present understanding of Joe's inner world, I'd engineered a certain amount of world-weariness into his future character from the start, so that much will remain.)
Part 3: My Mantra
I just have to get through the next few days, hour by hour, minute by minute. Break things down into smaller and smaller tasks until they become something I can handle. Take cough and cold remedies -- and remember to breathe.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-11-11 - 5:08 p.m.)
Courtesy of MR, who sends me lots of cool stuff:
Courtesy of MR, who sends me lots of cool stuff:
What rating is your journal?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are a descriptive writer. An avid reader of
Robert Frost, perhaps, you LOVE to use flowery
words and use the paper and pen as your canvas
and paintbrush. You prefer to paint a mental
image rather than simply toy around with
people's minds. A very inspired person, you
love to be in nature and usually are a very
outdoorsy type of person. A writer with a
natural green thumb, perhaps?
What's YOUR Writing Style?
brought to you by Quizilla
Goddess of Wind, calm and cool and under control.
You don't like getting personal with too many
people.
What element would you rein over? (For Girls)
brought to you by Quizilla
And guess what came last night? Not full flow, but it's a start... still feeling a bit crabby, grrrrrr.
(originally posted to Diaryland, 2003-11-12 - 8:21 p.m.)
Oh, God... my period has started, but the flow is so intensely heavy that it feels like my internal organs are being forceably emptied from my belly. It's time for nausea and cramping -- AND the emotional effects are hanging on. I feel like the most worthless piece of crap on the planet.
Hmm, that probably just pushed my journal rating (on the left) to an NC-17 right there.
The usual problems with interpersonal engagement are occuring... I feel angry in general and resentful of any slight, real or imagined... intensely jealous of the accomplishments of others, in a Salieri sort of way (knowing that they're geniuses while keenly aware of my own mediocrity)... a sincere desire to walk away from everything in my life that ever brought me pleasure, because it now causes me pain and it's "better for everyone else" in any case. The top of my brain knows that's bullshit (ding! moving up the rating...), but the bottom of my brain, where emotions come from, is just SO fucking (ding!) wracked with grief and despair.
I have no reason to be angry. I have no reason to want to tear myself apart. But I do. And I have to walk carefully, because otherwise I'm going to step right over the edge and let those emotions rule me. I have brief periods of relatively normal function, which in a way makes the rest of it all that much worse.
Oh, God... my period has started, but the flow is so intensely heavy that it feels like my internal organs are being forceably emptied from my belly. It's time for nausea and cramping -- AND the emotional effects are hanging on. I feel like the most worthless piece of crap on the planet.
Hmm, that probably just pushed my journal rating (on the left) to an NC-17 right there.
The usual problems with interpersonal engagement are occuring... I feel angry in general and resentful of any slight, real or imagined... intensely jealous of the accomplishments of others, in a Salieri sort of way (knowing that they're geniuses while keenly aware of my own mediocrity)... a sincere desire to walk away from everything in my life that ever brought me pleasure, because it now causes me pain and it's "better for everyone else" in any case. The top of my brain knows that's bullshit (ding! moving up the rating...), but the bottom of my brain, where emotions come from, is just SO fucking (ding!) wracked with grief and despair.
I have no reason to be angry. I have no reason to want to tear myself apart. But I do. And I have to walk carefully, because otherwise I'm going to step right over the edge and let those emotions rule me. I have brief periods of relatively normal function, which in a way makes the rest of it all that much worse.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-11-12 - 9:58 p.m.)
... I did discover the entire rhyme that goes with the "liar, liar, pants on fire!" insult that every kid learns on the playground:
"Liar, liar, pants on fire,
Hanging from a telephone wire
When the bull begins to pee
You shall have a cup of tea
When the bull begins to poop
You shall have a cup of soup."
Which has led to a new phrase in our household, usually directed at our lazy slugs of cats: "Move your soup dispenser!"
... I did discover the entire rhyme that goes with the "liar, liar, pants on fire!" insult that every kid learns on the playground:
"Liar, liar, pants on fire,
Hanging from a telephone wire
When the bull begins to pee
You shall have a cup of tea
When the bull begins to poop
You shall have a cup of soup."
Which has led to a new phrase in our household, usually directed at our lazy slugs of cats: "Move your soup dispenser!"
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-11-16 - 4:25 p.m.)
Bleh, bleh, bleh.... work, work, sick, work. Oh, the life of the freelancer...
I might have a couple of interesting entries later tonight (someone walked out of our gaming group last night, I had a great AI RP "(blank) of the Future" chat with MR the night before, and I recall a couple of other strange things I thought worth mentioning) -- but for now, this will have to do.
Onward, stylus! Photoshop ho!
Bleh, bleh, bleh.... work, work, sick, work. Oh, the life of the freelancer...
I might have a couple of interesting entries later tonight (someone walked out of our gaming group last night, I had a great AI RP "(blank) of the Future" chat with MR the night before, and I recall a couple of other strange things I thought worth mentioning) -- but for now, this will have to do.
Onward, stylus! Photoshop ho!
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-11-20 - 9:33 a.m.)
... off to the walk-in-clinic (my own doctor has been off the job for about three weeks, from a near-nervous breakdown his receptionist (who is friends with my mother) tells me)... hopefully he will give me a note to cover the days I've missed at I-R this past week or so. The antibiotic that he prescribed for me 12 days ago barely touched the infection I've got.
My own doc will be back on Monday (hopefully), but I don't feel I can wait that long. Cough. Cough. Yeesh.
... off to the walk-in-clinic (my own doctor has been off the job for about three weeks, from a near-nervous breakdown his receptionist (who is friends with my mother) tells me)... hopefully he will give me a note to cover the days I've missed at I-R this past week or so. The antibiotic that he prescribed for me 12 days ago barely touched the infection I've got.
My own doc will be back on Monday (hopefully), but I don't feel I can wait that long. Cough. Cough. Yeesh.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-11-20 - 2:20 p.m.)
The walk-in clinic doctor (the same one who prescribed the antibiotic for me twelve days ago) took one look at me, listened to my symptoms, concluded that I have a viral infection, and ordered a chest x-ray and a blood test for hemo and white blood cell count. Not so much as a touch of the stethescope and a "hmmm"... if there are any bad results, he'll get in touch with me. He didn't see much point in any more antibiotics. I'm pretty sure the chest x-ray won't show up anything since my cough has been dry and unproductive, but we'll see what we shall see.
He also ordered a copy of the results sent to Dr. T, my regular physician, who in spite of rumors of a nervous breakdown might actually be back this coming Monday after three and a half weeks away from his office.
The walk-in clinic doc wrote out a slip for Ipsos-Reid basically stating that yes, I'd been ill since October 27th and was expected to be off work until November 27th. I took it in to the I-R Human Resources office, waved the chest x-ray form at them to reinforce that no, I'm NOT malingering, and scheduled my oral Level 3 test for December 1st, by which time I should be back at work. They've been more than fair about all this, which I greatly appreciate, believe me.
In the meantime, I'm at home painting in Photoshop, where I can hack up my lungs as much as I like without interfering too much in the workflow.
The walk-in clinic doctor (the same one who prescribed the antibiotic for me twelve days ago) took one look at me, listened to my symptoms, concluded that I have a viral infection, and ordered a chest x-ray and a blood test for hemo and white blood cell count. Not so much as a touch of the stethescope and a "hmmm"... if there are any bad results, he'll get in touch with me. He didn't see much point in any more antibiotics. I'm pretty sure the chest x-ray won't show up anything since my cough has been dry and unproductive, but we'll see what we shall see.
He also ordered a copy of the results sent to Dr. T, my regular physician, who in spite of rumors of a nervous breakdown might actually be back this coming Monday after three and a half weeks away from his office.
The walk-in clinic doc wrote out a slip for Ipsos-Reid basically stating that yes, I'd been ill since October 27th and was expected to be off work until November 27th. I took it in to the I-R Human Resources office, waved the chest x-ray form at them to reinforce that no, I'm NOT malingering, and scheduled my oral Level 3 test for December 1st, by which time I should be back at work. They've been more than fair about all this, which I greatly appreciate, believe me.
In the meantime, I'm at home painting in Photoshop, where I can hack up my lungs as much as I like without interfering too much in the workflow.
(originally posted to Diaryland, 2003-11-24 - 7:45 p.m.)
Still sick, still tired. I went out for coffee and a bite with a couple of friends and was almost asleep halfway through my poutine (french fries with gravy and grated mozzerella cheese, very yummy stuff).
I'm scheduled back to work on Friday, but right now the thought of being up and on the phones for 7 hours is just about enough to make me cry.
Still sick, still tired. I went out for coffee and a bite with a couple of friends and was almost asleep halfway through my poutine (french fries with gravy and grated mozzerella cheese, very yummy stuff).
I'm scheduled back to work on Friday, but right now the thought of being up and on the phones for 7 hours is just about enough to make me cry.
(originally posted to Dairyland.com, 2003-11-27 - 9:30 p.m.)
The hormonal swing begins again. I feel exhausted, like someone has been grating my internal organs with a meat tenderizer; the smallest tasks require herculean effort.
Had an AI RP Main Game chat last night, which went well in spite of various players having difficulty staying connected via AIM -- we got a LOT done, and I got to see Twinkle, a delightful RP member who what with university and all is hardly ever around anymore. A chat after the Main Game had ended produced some surprising revelations in what MR has decided to call the "Rowan at Rennes" storyline, into which I plan to throw some monkey wrenches of my own if/when we play it again.
Going back to work at Ipsos-Reid tomorrow night, and stressing in a major way over that -- not for any particular real-life reason, just general self-esteem and anxiety problems. I just have to keep reminding myself that it is NOT that difficult at job, and that my employer has faith in me. With any luck, I won't start hacking my lungs up halfway through the shift.
Maybe when I've finished laying a couple of flats for painted pages, I'll jump on Yahoo and AIM chat and see if I can scare up an interesting conversation somewhere. Thank God for the internet! No other source of distraction can rival it.
The hormonal swing begins again. I feel exhausted, like someone has been grating my internal organs with a meat tenderizer; the smallest tasks require herculean effort.
Had an AI RP Main Game chat last night, which went well in spite of various players having difficulty staying connected via AIM -- we got a LOT done, and I got to see Twinkle, a delightful RP member who what with university and all is hardly ever around anymore. A chat after the Main Game had ended produced some surprising revelations in what MR has decided to call the "Rowan at Rennes" storyline, into which I plan to throw some monkey wrenches of my own if/when we play it again.
Going back to work at Ipsos-Reid tomorrow night, and stressing in a major way over that -- not for any particular real-life reason, just general self-esteem and anxiety problems. I just have to keep reminding myself that it is NOT that difficult at job, and that my employer has faith in me. With any luck, I won't start hacking my lungs up halfway through the shift.
Maybe when I've finished laying a couple of flats for painted pages, I'll jump on Yahoo and AIM chat and see if I can scare up an interesting conversation somewhere. Thank God for the internet! No other source of distraction can rival it.
(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-11-29 - 3:12 p.m.)
http://www.wewantyoursoul.com/index.php
A deliciously twisted little site... a bit plain to look at, but the idea is original. My results:
"Laurie E. Smith has had his/her soul valued at £24868 which means 39% of people
have a purer soul than him/her."
Here's the front page text:
"WWYS® has been formed by a consortium of international companies - including leading financial and genetic research institutions - to create a product that gives you an actual CASH VALUE for your soul.
"You can receive a guaranteed CASH SUM for life, in exchange for an agreement that entitles WWYS® the rights to your soul from now until all eternity.
"Find out the current value of your soul - click here now for a free, no obligation quotation.
"How does WWYS® work?
"Medical and operant conditioning science has made huge advances in recent years and due to our various strategic partnerships WWYS® is able to identify the genes and lifestyle choices that make up what is commonly referred to as the soul.
"Soul extraction is painless and worry-free. You need never remember your previous soulful existence, and look forward to a "life" of money and security. "
It's an amusing little test -- give it a try!
http://www.wewantyoursoul.com/index.php
A deliciously twisted little site... a bit plain to look at, but the idea is original. My results:
"Laurie E. Smith has had his/her soul valued at £24868 which means 39% of people
have a purer soul than him/her."
Here's the front page text:
"WWYS® has been formed by a consortium of international companies - including leading financial and genetic research institutions - to create a product that gives you an actual CASH VALUE for your soul.
"You can receive a guaranteed CASH SUM for life, in exchange for an agreement that entitles WWYS® the rights to your soul from now until all eternity.
"Find out the current value of your soul - click here now for a free, no obligation quotation.
"How does WWYS® work?
"Medical and operant conditioning science has made huge advances in recent years and due to our various strategic partnerships WWYS® is able to identify the genes and lifestyle choices that make up what is commonly referred to as the soul.
"Soul extraction is painless and worry-free. You need never remember your previous soulful existence, and look forward to a "life" of money and security. "
It's an amusing little test -- give it a try!
