Takes solace in Arundhati Roy:

"Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.”
― Arundhati Roy, War Talk

*takes more deep breaths*
whyyyyyyyyyyy am i being denied the glory?!
dglenn: Me in kilt and poofy shirt, facing away, playing acoustic guitar behind head (Default)
([personal profile] dglenn Feb. 11th, 2016 05:24 am)

"One of the things I would like to see with the candidates is not just for them to come up with a bunch of policies, but to indicate that they're willing to listen to what we have to say. I think it would be amazing if a candidate was asked a disability question and they said - 'You know, I don't really know, but I would love to hear what the disability community thinks.'" -- Andrew Pulrang, "The 2016 conversation has ignored disabled people. Now, they want to be heard." by Caitlin Gibson, 2016-02-10 in The Washington Post

I saw, of all things, a font*, while idly glancing at a website I found through a link in someone's Network post (the website's kind of bewildering; I still don't know what it's about). I haven't seen the font in about 10 years. But the second I saw it tonight my brain lit up. Because it was like the font one of my favorite bloggers used in her blog title who quit blogging and deleted every last word of it 10 years ago.

So on a snowball's chance of surviving in hell, I typed in her old URL and there she was*.

Now mind you, she hasn't updated since shortly after restoring her blog, which wasn't until late last year, and considering how most delete-and-restore bloggers tend to operate (just let's talk imnotmarah for a second, or rather let's not, because that ate me up; I've noticed since his underwhelming, yet somehow spine-chilling performance that quite a few bloggers tend to operate in similar ways) I'm going to bet, thanks to having seen too many things, that she probably won't update and her blog will be down by next week/month/four this afternoon or whenever.

Because that's the only safe bet I can make.

I have no faith in what's online anymore: thank you, Internet, for your all-too-easy camaraderie and total lack of honesty. I've been around it so many times with so many writers who just can't do the thing, for whatever reason they decide they can't do it, that I'm not going to bother feeling something beyond whatever little crumb of gladness this post might convey.

Because I'm tired of feeling it for nothing.

But it's still nice to see she sort of brought her writing back.

**If you're of a certain age go read her (she'll probably do nothing for Millennials unless her archives are up, in which case you might get a kick out of them; the writing she did in her 20s and 30s is timeless). She was immensely popular in my day for a certain kind of interpersonal blogging that was often hilarious. She's smart, with an interesting life and an even more interesting way of discussing it.

*No, she doesn't use that font now. But I'd recognize it - and it would still make me think of her - wherever I saw it.

may it never be the sole design option of something i want to buy. And may I never be stuck with alternate colours that only consist of white or black. Cause those are BORING.
the_future_modernes: a shot of the earth from the perspective of someone on a rock in space (Default)
([personal profile] the_future_modernes Feb. 11th, 2016 01:45 am)
i used to be able to sit down at the last minute and focus and do a TON of work. and then I lost the ability to do that. so what would happen is that i pretty much refused to do any work at all because i couldnt concentrate except in tiny chunks and it felt like the work took too long that way and got boring because omg i keep having to come back to it dammit i just wanna be DONE! But what I have been advised to do is to like that process. And to keep doing a little by a little by a little. And build up my focus again, slowly, day by day. Bit by bit.

And teh days after i do surprisingly large word counts, just aim for the official word count which is 410. I can make 410. And if I dont make it, fine whatever. Just write some amount. That way the chain is unbroken, and the stress and pressure is off.
the_future_modernes: a shot of the earth from the perspective of someone on a rock in space (Default)


([personal profile] the_future_modernes Feb. 11th, 2016 12:17 am)
Speaking up against systematic racism in the publishing industry
1. On January 15, 2016, a post went up on Kirkus Reviews blog. That post was about celebrating diversity. It also contained this extremely troubling claim: “I rarely get romances to review that are written by or include characters of color. So even when I actually buy a book, or a publisher sends me an author I really want to read, I usually don’t have time—reading that book takes me away from titles I get paid to read.” Let me translate if you’re not seeing what’s wrong with this: This says that Kirkus and NPR (the entities this author works for) by and large do not review books by diverse authors. The author of that post vowed to read more diverse romances in her spare time, but did not say anything about trying to change the conversation at her institutions.

2. These are major review sources. Librarians and book sellers rely on these publications to decide who to purchase. Not being reviewed by these sources, ever, makes it materially difficult for an author to have a break out career in traditional publishing.

[my note: the usual tired ass racist ass tactics of white people being called out ensued. But I just wanna talk about this part:]

Kirkus Reviews published a piece admitting that, with only a tiny number of exceptions, they don’t review romances except those written by white authors.

Skip the reasons. Just look at that sentence. Kirkus Reviews published a piece admitting that, with only a tiny number of exceptions, they don’t review romances except those written by white authors.


This isn't white privilege, even. This is white supremacy.
the_future_modernes: a shot of the earth from the perspective of someone on a rock in space (Default)
([personal profile] the_future_modernes Feb. 10th, 2016 11:22 pm)
Hooray for me! Also I had the most delicious shrimp and cheese omelette. And today was pretty!
lavendertook: abyssinian kitty: one ring to rule them all! (smeagol cat)
([personal profile] lavendertook Feb. 10th, 2016 08:42 pm)
It is amazing how absolutely elated I am because I just spied a free parking spot in the parking lot before my building--the lot was all filled when I got home and every time I checked the window since I got home. So I raced (or kind of hobbled speedily because my knee is hurting) down the stairs to my car down the block, looking over my shoulder constantly lest the spot be taken before I reach my chariot, got in, drove safely but quickly, and parked in the miraculous spot before any one else got to it. Score!!!

OK, I do have good reason for my demented joy this time: I have to take Moo to the vet for her yearly checkup first thing in the morning, and I was not looking forward to boxing her, leaving her, going down to get the car and parking with blinkers in front of the building and running back up to bring her down on a very cold morning and the extra 10 minutes that could involve--sucky for both of us. So my life just became soooooo much BETTER! I have brought down a mastodon and now my tribe will not go hungry! I am an awesome slayer of parking spots!!!

But it is really amazing the amount of stress and relief there is in my life over finding the rare specimen of a close parking spot after 4pm. Days are sometimes planned around this quest, especially before an early morning with things to carry out, and most especially before trips and vet appointments. Some days I get home in the evening expecting the worst (OMG!!!) and I will have to park across the main street, or I'm coming home with groceries and will have to put on my blinkers and park the car in front of the building, get the groceries all upstairs in a couple of trips, and then move my car to that Distant Land of Utter Dejection--oh the agony! And then sometimes I come home late, with no expectations, no glimmer of hope, and I have to pull all the way into the parking lot because there is no way to see if all spots are taken without driving all the way in, and then dulcet voices sing forth and THERE IS A SPOT OPEN BEYOND ALL HOPE!!!! And all of a sudden I am sooo happy!

This is my eternal quest. Not unlike my fervent prayers that the coin washer and dryer in the basement will be free when I need it. Life is so strange and filled with unexpected struggles, torments, and joys. Just thought I'd share.

I woke up today to see my boy was back, sitting in a fancy red paper bag up on the dresser across from my bed.

I recall sucking my breath in at the sight and thinking of the rage I was driven into by what the receptionist, an extremely rude, thoughtless girl of perhaps 17-20 years old, told me about the "beautiful presentation" which she ordered me "not to worry about" because cardboard boxes and plastic bags are always the most respectful way to memorialize your loved one's life, are they not?

This was five minutes after the vet tech took his body away - which was only seconds before the same ridiculous girl burst into the room, saw me crying, shouted "Oh!!!" at the top of her lungs and almost made me jump out of my chair. Once she collected herself (she acted like she'd seen a ghost, so this took her a few seconds) and without a drop of sympathy in her way-too-cheerful voice, she said I ought to go pay for Stuie's services "right now" and "just get it over with" (which was probably her making a lot of assumptions about my ability and willingness to pay, or she wouldn't be trying to rush me, which was another extremely angering thing to have to deal with at that moment).

Would you be driven into a nearly homicidal rage by her words, timing and actions? God forgive me, I know I was.

The only thing...the only thing...that stopped me from totally losing my mind, that kept me quiet and my reactions rather slow and blunted, was realizing she's still young and was proving it through her words and actions, proving she knows nothing of life, nor death, nor grief. I've had to jump this damned turnstile so many times; she's apparently never had to jump it at all. Because if she had, she'd know how to act, and it would not be the way she acted.

On top of that she's probably not trained well (perhaps not at all). So even while I was in a rage, I had to force myself to understand her situation and forgive her for how she was making me feel. But it was hard. I was in shock now, in addition to all the grief and misery. But I had to think of her, of what she can't know, what I wouldn't really want her to know if it was up to me.

That aside, my stomach was in knots today as soon as I saw the bag over what she told me moments after he died about how he was coming back. Maternal guilt: I want the best for him, but box in a bag or bag in a box was all I was getting and I knew it and even as I poured my first cup of coffee and went back in the room to be with him it was making me sick.

After more coffee and crying, I opened the bag and peered inside it to see a small rectangular box wrapped in a thin layer of white tissue. I felt my blood rise, pulled the accompanying leaflets and booklets out and walked away from the box before I could get even more upset. The papers included a small book full of grief counseling tips, with a few pages I found helpful - or at least sort of comforting.

At the end was a poem about the Rainbow Bridge. I never knew what it was so I decided to find out. The last few lines tore me up because they're part of the grief of having lost someone - that is, wondering if you'll ever see them again. The poem speaks to that and offers a way to envision it, instead of treating the topic like it doesn't exist or matter.

Yes, it does exist and it does matter. A lot.

Anyway, I'm moving again (the house I'm in is nice enough, but having housemates is so unmanageable that I'll be joyously wandering off soon to live without them); because of that my room is stuffed with all the things I'll need to pack shortly, so it's not like I looked around today and saw a lot of room for Stuie's...bag. I got so upset at having to put his bag up after reading the grief book, I couldn't go through with it.

Finally I made room on a wooden shelf next to the TV and nestled him up on that. A truly awful place to put him, but until I get situated elsewhere there is nothing better. Once the bag was up, I just looked at it for a while. Finally, morbid curiosity took over: I had to know what was in the bag. I put the bag back up on the dresser. I took the box out of the bag. I undid the tissue around the box.

The box was not made out of cardboard.

The box is made of strong, heavy cherry with a nice hasp on the front. Inside, along with the keys, were his ashes inside of a black velvet bag with a golden pull-string; inside of that was a heavy plastic bag sealed with a rubberband, with a dog tag around that with the name of the crematorium on it. Through my tears, I began to smile.

Outside of the innermost bag (because I want it airtight - but we have a vacuum sealer, so I might just go ahead and take care of that myself) it was a beautiful presentation, after all.

After putting it all back together and putting the amazingly not-cardboard box back up on the shelf, I spent another half hour deciding if I should file a complaint on the receptionist and how - should I call the vet? The girl in question will answer the phone. Write a longhand letter? I'm sure she gets all their mail.

Even assuming I could route the letter directly to the vet and be assured by somebody that she won't be allowed to open it, it would take so much time and energy to write, and I'm not trying to make her lose her job, so I hesitate to complain. Ideally I'd only want her to be retrained, for them to show her how to do Human Being correctly around other suffering, much more unhappy human beings.

And for them to make her describe the box correctly so people don't think she's pulling a fast one by telling them not to worry (which is an obnoxious and rather trying way to put it - of course I'm going to worry!) as it's such a "beautiful presentation" when what she was describing is as ghetto as you can get outside of them dumping his ashes on the floor and making me sweep them up myself.

Anyway, it's done, and thankfully it was a beautiful presentation, in spite of how she put it.

Tho from what I have been hearing so far i am not very sure Sherrilyn Kenyon has a case. (Why the focusing on the name of the series for instance? If names were plagiarizable the entire romance book industry would be in SERIOUS problems.) Then again, this IS Cassandra Clare we're talking about here. As more information comes out, we'll see.

EDIT: Ok now I see it PDF of the complaint from courtney milan via [personal profile] octopedingenue

EDIT 2: Courtney Milan a lawyer who romance writes, think Ms Kenyon doesnt have a claim from what she's been able to read
lurkingcat: (Default)
([personal profile] lurkingcat Feb. 10th, 2016 08:47 pm)
sineala: Detail of Harry Wilson Watrous, "Just a Couple of Girls" (reading)
([personal profile] sineala Feb. 10th, 2016 03:34 pm)
What I Just Finished Reading

One day, perhaps, I will finish reading a book. That day is not today.

What I'm Reading Now

Comics Wednesday!

All-New All-Different Avengers #5, Marvel's Captain America - Civil War Prelude Infinite Comic #1, New Avengers #6, Spider-Man/Deadpool #2, Ultimates #4 )

What I'm Reading Next

Books? Yeah, probably not.
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([personal profile] topaz119 Feb. 10th, 2016 02:09 pm)
Catching up on the Wednesday reading meme…

it's been a while )
[dreamwidth.org profile] silveradept asked me to talk about "Your unexpected best fandom of this year". That's a bit tricky to answer, because I didn't fall into/acquire a new fandom in the sense of Having A New Fandom, so I'm going to take some serious liberties with the question and write about the canons I encountered for the first time in 2015 that seem like they'd be most up my alley/like I'd get the most fannish enjoyment out of them if they had captured my heart that way.

(Usual breaking-down of terms here, because I know we don't all use them the same way. The way I describe my own position is that I enjoy a ton of stories, and since I'm both in fandom in general and a fan of plenty of stories that many fandom people are fannish about, I happily read discussions/fic/meta etc. for quite a lot of things. But I've only ever been actively fannish about a handful of things, in that they take up a noticeable amount of my mental and emotional bandwidth and sometimes/usually result in some fic. And to my chagrin, I seem to be wired to be pretty damn monofannish; the most my brain seems capable of handling at a time is a primary fandom that I'm deeply in love with, plus sometimes one or two others that get to take up a noticeable amount of space in my head.)

1) For sheer fun and clever self-awareness, plus awesome characters, Ms. Marvel would be an awesome story to be in love with that way. Kamala is so great! So geeky (and fannish!) and loyal and fierce! So plausible as a teenager chafing at her limits but genuinely loving and appreciating her family! And there are such fantastic guest appearances, and things like the fun Frozen nod tucked smoothly into vol. 4 (which I just read, and it was purely wonderful from start to finish).

2) For oddly similar reasons, I would've loved it if Killjoys had seized my heart. (To be honest, I hold out hope for that happening as we move into the next season, but I have no idea how likely it actually is. I never, ever know.) The world-building is neat, and there are lots of layers to be delved into. I adore Johnny (colored by my love for Aaron Ashmore carrying over from Warehouse 13, but that's never guaranteed), and Dutch is marvelous, and Lucy delights me (especially her relationship with Johnny), and D'Avin...well, okay, I'm not at all invested in D'Avin. (And constantly annoyed by the apostrophe in his name.) Haunted/Tortured White Dude is not something there's a shortage of in my media. But that said, his S1 storyline was well executed and had some interesting details, so I'd say it was at least a stronger-than-average contender into an overly-crowded field.

3) Jessica Jones is what I came closest to expecting would make me fannish. I wobble a bit on that edge with MCU in general, and when the first trailers for JJ came out I was really excited. And I love the show! It's not perfect--there are so places it could've been stronger, and intellectually I can see the spots where it could/should have been tightened up--but I don't care. I love it. Jess herself offers a lot of the traits that my best-beloved female characters share on a silver platter: so emotionally damaged and fucked up, all sharp edges and ferocity, tremendously protective, vulnerable in real ways that don't undermine the ferocity or treat it as an act. And then to also get Trish, who I had no expectations of one way or the other--Trish, who's working through some very different, also horrible shit in her own (also very different) way, who refuses to back down or be protected, who puts her love into words in a way Jessica's incapable of and then backs it up--made it all the better.

So Jessica Jones is probably the closest thing I have to an answer to the original question, except for the detail where I'm not, in fact, fannish about it. *sighs* But if that were determined by some kind of excellent dating-site-equivalent algorithm matching fans to fandoms, I totally would be.
mrs_sweetpeach: (Default)
([personal profile] mrs_sweetpeach Feb. 10th, 2016 10:12 am)
Click here for Week 6 )
batwrangler: Just for me. (Default)
([personal profile] batwrangler Feb. 10th, 2016 08:54 am)
For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, the screws in the bottom hinge of our bathroom door occasionally work themselves loose. We usually just add wood putty and toothpicks to the holes and screw them back in, but this time we also decided to add a middle hinge to the door.

N picked up a set that matches the existing ones as much as a gap of 40 years allows. I measured the distance between the top and bottom hinges and discovered that it was not quite 61 inches, so I marked 30 inches down from the top and 30 inches up from the bottom and eyeballed a center line between those marks. Then I marked the center of the new hinge, lined things up ... et voila! The door swings freely and the third hinge will, I hope, take some of the stress off the others.