Wednesday, 16 January 2013

Hello again world! This blog has got away from me, and isn't really what I want out of a blog right now, so I have started a new one, which you can find here: The One With The Tattoos

Any lingering denizens are welcome to follow! So say we all, and thanks for reading this far!

Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Dr Who: Let's Kill Hitler... a late review

I wrote this a while back and meant to post it but didn't. Here's how I felt about Let's Kill Hitler in a rambly post:

I’m really and truly honestly mixed about how I feel. In one sense, it was good ol’ DW porn, it was witty, clever (loved the stuff with Rory and Hitler) and had good monsters and action scenes. In the other sense (and I don’t like saying this) I feel like Moffat has lost the plot a bit. I admired the 5th series for having a decent plot (Silence, cracks, etc) that wrapped up nicely and left us wanting more. Now I feel that this series is making things up as it goes along, and I feel that the whole River being Amy and Rory’s daughter was a bit of a cop-out, though it may make for a couple of interesting story-lines. She was cool enough from the Library episode by seeming to be the one person the Doctor trusted and loved the most. I would have respected the daughter thing more if Mel had been seen or existed even once in previous episodes.
I am also growing weary of this Kenny-esque attitude Moffat has taken. If you want to have dramatic, heart-wrenching moments, there are so many things you could do instead of just having a character be dying and then miraculously get saved. Watching Rory die has completely lost its drama now, and then having the Doctor come close to death (which was important for the River storyline), the whole dying-for-emotional-reaction is getting exhausting.
I guess I had built up the Eleven/River storyline too much. When she talked about the first time she met the Doctor and he knew everything about her, the way she told that story made me think it would be a much more tender, exposed and emotional moment. She tried, but it wasn’t really in the script, given this Melody Pond twist.

They also need to give Amy something substantial to do. I don’t feel like there’s really been any character development from her since episode one of season five, and there is so much potential.

I guess to sum it up, it’s starting to feel a bit like a fan-fiction, with Mary Sue tendencies, pregnant protagonists and constant dying and coming back. Feel free to disagree, and I know I’ll keep watching it, just how I keep reading long-running fan-fictions that lost their original story-line and continued to weave an unplanned plot.

I still love River (she was a bit annoying when she first regenerated; I would have liked to see her a bit stronger and less self-obsessed) and I admire Arthur Darville for really turning my opinion on Rory.

Also, (I’m almost done ranting, I promise) I’m really looking forward to next week. Moffat in the RTD era wrote just my acceptable level of creepiness and I loved his episodes. Now all that excitement and thrill is lost in a convoluted storyline (The Impossible Astronaut being an example… I loved the creepiness of the Silence, but their creepiness was not the focus of the episode, which saddened me. I know the plot focused on fighting them, but I wanted more scenes like the orphanage). Even Silence in the Library, though it had a pivotal Doctor plot, mostly focussed on the horror of the shadows, leaving you constantly on edge.

Right, we’ll see how it goes. Sorry for the rant; I did actually enjoy the episode, it’s just more the recycled story-lines and fan-fiction basics that Moffat keeps using that are getting to me.

A god-less union

Right, yes, I was gone again. I'd like to say I was wandering the halls of an enchanted castle, leaping from era to era and worlds to worlds, but no, I was working and dealing with other things, which are now going to get a rant here.

Well, since my last update which was about weddings in New York, something funny happened, I got engaged! No big declarations of undying love on top of a world monument with airplanes, helicopters or dinosaurs, but just a nice simple decision to get married.

However, that's when things got complicated. Apparently there are family members in ones life who have been planning your wedding since the day you were born. It's true. Thankfully, these people are not my parents, so I am a bit free there. What I am dealing with, however, is the slew of opinions, advice and expectations from others.

I am not much of a quiet person, but I am rather reserved about my relationship and romantic sensibilities. I prefer quiet, mostly unspoken declarations of love and commitment, so a big wedding is actually really uncomfortable to me. Don't get me wrong, I would put on a great show, but it would cease to be about the two of us and more about some fantasy I had at 16 when the man I was marrying was faceless and fictional. In other words, the two of us want to get married, not have a wedding. And this really makes people angry.

In addition to being crazy in love and opinionated, I got a little angry. Here is some back-story. I am an atheist, but I was not always one. My parents, though atheists as well, thought that they should at least take my brother and myself to church and Sunday school, both to appease family members, but mostly to prevent a rebellious "born-again" moment when we were frustrated with our later teenage lives (a common thing that happened to a lot of my friends in high school or college... churches know how to recruit!). Our parents said that once we went through confirmation at the age of 14, we would be free to make our own choice. Actually, it was a good age for that. I don't remember many years of resenting my parents for taking me to church, but I also remember having the time to think about it myself (a budding scientific mind and all that). So, I turn 14, leave the church (not a big deal, it was a small ELCA Lutheran Church) which promptly pisses off my cousin and her husband, some 30-ish born-again Christians. Since then, I never really saw, nor heard from them... until now.

With the (excited) announcement of my engagement, essentially going viral within the family circles, came lots of congratulations and wedding expectations (good and bad). The aforementioned god-fearing cousin emailed me with a link to their online(?) church and said that I should seriously consider it because faith has helped her through her marriage.

I have a few things to say on this:

1. I don't really mind people who believe in a deity, as long as they formed that belief themselves and it is a peaceful one (does there really need to be so much hate?). I do think organised religion is a pox on the world and will be our eventual doom, but that's for another day!

2. I appreciate the seemingly thoughtful message that she genuinely is giving me advice for this new step in my life... however....

3. This is how I reacted: "REALLY?!?!?! You DARE to stay out of my life, only to come in and tell me how to run it?! I think I developed into a damn awesome human being, without the influence of you or your god, so why would I need you now?!?" ... maybe a bit of an over-reaction, but part of me still thinks this is a valid reaction.

Here's my main point: 
How/Why/When did it become socially acceptable to do this? To recommend a Christian church and a completely unique and different lifestyle to essentially a stranger for the so-called improvement of her life? It would never ever occur to me to tell a friend, family member or stranger something like this (I cannot think of an analogy, that's how much the idea abhors me)

My future husband was there when I read that email and I had a massive freak-out. He handed me a beer, told me it wasn't that big of a deal and just write back "We don't need your stinkin god. We have sex, drugs and rock and roll to get through our hard times" ... I think he's good for me.

Also, and this is just a side-thought and I am not trying to generalise or anything (yes, I know, nothing good can follow that...), but out of all the advice, stories and tips I have been given in the last month, it is the super-religious people who have warned me that "love/marriage is the hardest thing you'll ever have to do" or something along those lines. Seriously? Jeebus Cracker, it's the effing easiest thing in the world! Yes, we have our ups and downs but so does life, and actually having someone there who is understanding and loyal makes life EASIER! If it's the hardest thing, then guess what, you're doing it wrong!

You can look forward to more anti-traditional wedding rants in the months to come! Aren't you lucky?

Thursday, 28 July 2011

Weddings! Drinks all around!

Here are some great pictures from last weekends weddings in New York, when gay marriage was finally legal: 60 Awesome Pictures

Here are some of my favourites:

I like the happy family surrounding this couple:

They have waited so long!




I browsed pictures and videos all Monday and Tuesday because I love happiness and I love seeing people in love. It's a beautiful, wonderful thing and how some people can look at these truly happy people with disgust and disdain is beyond my comprehension. Those must be very sad people indeed, whose "god" or whatever dictates their morals will leave them disappointed and abandoned, without true love. [End of politicky rant]

There was also a great story on the New York Times that a man shared of his wedding experience. I cannot find the article right now, but it was really enjoyable to read. He described how his parents went to a courthouse, then a bar and got so drunk they lost the marriage license and for 60+ years couldn't remember what day they got married. When he got married, him and his husband and his husbands family pissed about in San Francisco for a day, killing time between the certificate and the ceremony by arranging pillows in his husbands store.

My own opinions of weddings were shaped by my parents sharing their story with me. According to them, they got married on the day of their last final in graduate school. The professor invited everyone around for drinks afterwards to which my mother responded "Sorry, we can't. We're getting married this afternoon." Her and her sister went to Safeway to get some flowers and after a short ceremony with a few friends and family members, they went home and the parents cooked dinner for everyone. They stayed up late drinking, eating and chatting with the people that meant the most to them in life.

Fundamentally, that is how weddings should be. It should never be a show, conforming to expectations of a religion or a society or family and friends. You should do what you want, what both of you want, with people you love and have a great day. The man in the aforementioned story said he loved his wedding day because there was no stress, it was simply a fun day with his favourite people. If you both want a big ceremony with 500 of your closest friends, then by all means, go ahead! If you want to elope and simply share a day together, then have it be so! Just be happy.

The sight of the hundreds of couples who, for the most part, had already committed their lives to each other, confirmed that weddings are a wonderful addition to a marriage. It was genuinely about finally gaining the respect of the government and the ability to share a legal experience that so many others have done in so many different ways throughout the years.

I love weddings of all shapes and sizes. I love seeing people in love and sharing their day with others. The sight and stories of strangers cheering on newly married couples last weekend gave me chills. Love is something that can and should be shared by everyone for it is the easiest and most wonderful thing in the world. If it's not, you're doing it wrong. The sight of all those couples on Sunday showed that they understand true love, more than any of us as they have struggled through more adversity than any other couple getting married these days. They know how to love better than most and deserve the utmost respect.

Sunday, 17 July 2011

Saying Goodbye - Part 2

See Part 1 here

It's all over. It was done with elegance and respect.

My single most powerful emotion is freedom. It may seem sad, but no longer will I feel tied down to the next Harry Potter release; no more will people from my past ask about Harry Potter and not how I am doing as a person. The people who will mock me for my love for Severus Snape will mostly be replaced by those curious about my real relationship.

I came home with mixed feelings, to a wonderful man who greeted me with a hug and a large glass of red wine. This is my life now, and it is good.

My life has moved on, just like those of Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron. I look forward to the day that I can send my children off on Platform 9 3/4 to a world of their own. It is no longer mine.

I feel free.

Friday, 15 July 2011

Saying Goodbye - Part 1


Tonight, a part of my life will be gone forever. [cue fainting dramatically on a settee] I am a lucky member of the "Harry Potter Generation". For those of you who are somehow unfamiliar with this concept, it's the people around you who "grew up with Harry", as we are now used to saying. So, for someone like me, how did this all begin? Well, sit back comrades, and let me tell you.

I, as an American, normally would not have read the books until I was eleven years old (1998). By a coincidence, my family was in the UK in 1997 and happened to pick up Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, out of a pile of maybe five copies, stashed in a corner in a shop. My mother picked out the books because my little brother, seven years old at the time, was refusing to read books. My brother's hair was always a mess, he was a bit awkward at his age and had big round glasses. In short, he looked just like that specky nerd on the cover of the book. My mom figured that a boy wizard, about my brothers age, would be interesting for him. Interesting it was.

My little brother, pretending to go into Platform 9 3/4 at Kings Cross Station in 1997 (We just guessed at the whole 9 3/4 thing)

[In a moment of regret that we will feel our whole lives, we gave that first (maybe second) edition of Harry Potter to his teacher so she could read it, not knowing what it would become]

That is the beginning of the tale; how did I become such a fanatic?

School is never easy for anyone, and it certainly was not easy for me. In elementary and junior high, I had few friends and was betrayed by many. I managed to connect with one character in particular, Severus Snape.

I originally became attached to Snape in the first book, when everyone has assumed he was the villain trying to get to the Philosopher's Stone by letting trolls into the castle and bribing Hagrid with a dragon. Then we found out that it was actually the stuttering, unassuming Professor Quirrel, and that Snape was all along trying to stop Quirrel. As a ten-year-old, this was an amazing twist, and Snape stood out as Bad-Ass Number One for me. He was also snarky and rude, with lines like, "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach," [HP and the Philosopher's Stone] which appealed to my more sinister side.

My adoration for Snape turned to...well... an obsession when I was about 12 or 13 (the ages are all a bit murky here, but I am sure it was closer to 12). I was still in junior high and frankly having a miserable time. I was the know-it-all nerd whom teachers told to stop raising her hand (I also identified a lot with Hermione, along with many girls in my position). I was quite oblivious and desperately wanted friends. I thought I had some, then would find out that they made fun of me, yadda yadda yadda, the usual traumatic childhood stuff. Anyway, I read Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (number 3 in the series) and discovered that Snape was bullied as a child by Harry's father. Boom! That was it. He was my friend. He would understand.

At the age of 14 I was lucky enough to move across town for school, to the International Baccalaureate Programme. It was basically a haven for all of us know-it-alls around the city. Suddenly, I was in a classroom filled with people all raising their hand and doing their homework and asking intelligent questions, but more importantly, it was a room of Harry Potter fans. So not only did we have that in common, but we were all deeply analytical and loved intelligent discussion.

Our lunchtimes became a round-table Harry Potter discussion forum, where as books 4-6 were released we would debate heavily everything from what the title meant to what would happen at the very end. [On a side note, I was bang-on about Snape being the Half-Blood Prince, thank you very much] We went to every release for books and films, complete with our costumes and characters. One time, we even booked something like 24 tickets for the third Harry Potter film.

My 18th birthday party, complete with a blow-up doll of Severus Snape, thanks guys :)

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was released the summer we all graduated from this haven of nerd-dom. At our International Baccalaureate graduation, the head of our school gave a speech and compared our experience with the Harry Potter books. Then we said goodbye to our friends and all went our separate ways to university.

The closest ones kept in touch, continually discussing what was going to happen in the final book and writing our own analysis and stories about this happy world.

In case you have not read them (I warned you about spoilers!), Snape killing Dumbledore at the end of Half-Blood Prince divided the Harry Potter world like nothing ever could. Was he good? Was he evil? Him being my best friend during my childhood, I always stood by his side. He probably could have put babies on spikes and I would have stood by him. The thought that he could be evil, particularly coming from close friends of mine, infuriated me so much. I had to stand by him; I had to show my support. So what would a hormonal, obsessive 18-year-old do? She would get a tattoo, and get a tattoo I did. [You can read the MSNBC News Article with my tattoo here :) ]

Tattoo on lower back after the 6th Harry Potter book was released. The moon is for Remus Lupin, my other favourite character and the raven was for Snape.

Then it was it, the last book. The end. Summer of 2007 was an emotionally trying one for me. One of my best friends and I decided to culminate our obsessive fangirl childhood with a trip to Los Angeles while the fifth Harry Potter film was released. We went to the premiere of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix at Grauman's Chinese Theatre. Surrounded by hormonal teenage girls, convinced they would marry Daniel Radcliffe, we realised that this was no longer our world. That said though, we were able to stand out from the thousands of teenagers by being the only people truly excited to see Imelda Staunton, enough so that she came over to us, so we felt vindicated
Imelda Staunton, laughing at Lauren listing off random 80s films she was in, if I remember correctly!

We got back to Colorado and the last book was coming out. The local Borders set it up so if you had reserved a book, you would go stand in line in the morning and get a ticket with a number on it in the order you would get it that night (preventing 24 hours of standing in a queue), which was great because they had a full party going on in the 2-story shop. Anyway, a couple of my friends went and stood in the queue at about 4:30 in the morning and we were not the first people there. We got our tickets, and went home to throw an epic party. At about 8pm a group of about 15-20 of us (all in our early 20s) went to Borders, all dressed in costumes to await the ending of the book. It came out, we went home and we read. I passed out at 4:30, woke up at 7ish and kept reading.

Naveen frantically finishing the 6th book before midnight
All of us in costume
Opening the last book for the first time at 5 minutes past midnight
He died. My beloved Severus died. Tragedy cannot begin to describe it. I had lost my best friend. I will not go into his story, but it is tragic. What does a 20-year-old obsessive and heartbroken woman do? She gets a tattoo.

I appreciate that few can understand what it is like to experience a loss, both of the story and of a fictional friend. Both stood by me in my darkest times (only a few examples given here) for the past 14 years. Those who "grew up with Harry" have a unique experience that none other will have. Friends my age who try to read it now struggle because the books are written for the age of Harry (namely children and pre-teens for the first couple). It is a truly once-in-a-generation experience that none will ever understand. 

Tonight I say goodbye; tonight it all ends. Though I knew this day would come, and I know what is going to happen, it just seems so final. The Harry Potter books were my friends, they gave me friends and they gave me a place to call my own. I will probably cry, but whether it is from feeling happiness, sadness, grief or an epic catharsis, I do not know. 

Last night, my partner (who is not a Harry Potter fan) asked, "Why are you even going? It sounds like it is going to be a horrible experience!" and it's a fair question from someone who can not understand. In a way, this could not have come at a more opportune time, when I am starting my life out with him. The one who held my hand and told me things would be okay, metaphorically of course, I will watch him die tonight. Now I will be free to start my life out properly with a man who can hold my hand and tell me things will be okay, and I guess that is what growing up is all about.

I'll update tomorrow with how I actually feel after watching it; if it even affected me at all.  [Update, see part 2 here]

I wrote another post about Alan Rickman and the conclusion of that relationship here

To all of you people who grew up with Harry, this moment is for us. The rest cannot understand, "What would come, would come... and he would have to meet it when it did." - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

All plot and characters mentioned are the property of JK Rowling, thank you Jo.

Wednesday, 13 July 2011

When you least expect it...

I return!

I know it has been an absurdly long time since I have last updated, and for those of you still around, thanks for your patience.

This blog needs to take a life of its own, and has been floundering of late. Why shouldn't it reflect my own life, in all of its own weirdness?

So what has happened to me of late?

I am now in my last year of my PhD, aiming to finish by 1 June of next year. That leaves me with 324 days left, and I will be trying to update my progress as often as I can.

After years of trying to figure out the dating culture here, realising that was not going to happen and resigning to being single for the rest of my Ph.D, planning on trying to date when I lived back in America, a friend of friends asked me out, unexpectedly. It was very much that cliche "As soon as you stop looking..." and we are now living together. It seems soon for a lot of people, but the two of us are very similar and the perks outweigh the risks. Actually, when it feels right, it's the least scary thing in the world.

The last Harry Potter film comes out on Friday. You can bet there will be a long post similar to my post "Alan Rickman and Me". I do not think I'm ready for this to end and I have blocked out all weekend for scheduled epic blues.

The News of the World hacking scandal has taken my attention by storm. I cannot stop reading about it and wonder how far this will reach and how effective it will be as a cathartic moment for politicians and the media. I could write more, but I will save reflections for future incidents and not burden you with long, drawn out retrospective comments.

I want to go to Dragon*Con. The Comic-Con holiday was an epic failure, due to the incompetence of ticket sales and unfortunate coincidences. Leonard Nimoy, Carrie Fisher and Mary McDonnell, as well as seeing friends are currently battling money and time within my mind. It's not a pretty battle. Seriously, I suspect the headache I feel is the rational part of my brain gathering up all the fangirl, nerdy parts of my other brain and slamming the brain pulp against my skull in wicked punishment for their irrational thoughts.

My work is finally progressing nicely. After a year (a YEAR) of writing, debugging and rewriting the main code for my research, I have been able to start the runs. May I just say, the memory management in my code is nothing less than sexy.

Rachel Maddow's show last night gave me the heebies about some bat-shit preachers going to Gov Rick Perry's prayer event of madness in Texas. PZ Myers does a much better job describing it (and can provide a link to the actual episode) at Pharyngula.

In short, I am back. Tell your friends. Hear me roar.